


Stars and Glitter

by fiendingforthesunshine



Series: The Disabled Military Veteran AU [1]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Also Ryan and Jon don't come into the story until way later so if you're here for that, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Teachers, And they're not really like SERIOUS important characters, Bisexual Character, Blind Character, Blindness, Brendon has a little brother in this fic, Disability, Hurt/Comfort, I almost forgot that there's a touch of kidnapping in this story as well, I apologize for making you suffer through platonic Brendon and Spencer junk until then, I'll stop talking in the tags now, Kidnapping, Like I'm really not kidding, Mentions of attempted suicide, Military veteran, Multi, Not Beta Read, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spencer is an elementary school teacher and Brendon's little brother is in his class, Suicide Attempt, The whole band used to be soldiers, There's a brief mention of one of the Way brothers from My Chemical Romance but that's about it, This fic is really platonic Brendon/Spencer heavy, Torture, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2535389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiendingforthesunshine/pseuds/fiendingforthesunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon dedicated 6 years of his life to the army and at 24 years old was quite literally blindsided by an IED and sent back home with a purple heart and a white plastic cane. Sent back home to a little brother he hardly knows, no actual friends and no real direction in his life. </p><p>Spencer shuffled into the military recruitment center at 18 and left the middle of Indian Ocean on a medical helicopter at 19. The military paid for him to go to college and he became an elementary school teacher with a habit of being the favored 2nd grade teacher in the school and the most likely to actively create the most dangerous and hilarious science projects. </p><p>Seeing the horrors of war make the blandness of civilian life almost unbearable at times but it's not so bad when you have someone to drink away the sorrows with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huh, so. I've been writing fan fiction (to secretly keep to myself and never share with anyone) since I was a tweenie bopper in Middle School in the early 2000s. I posted some truly awful work to ff.net (like, so awful I don't even want to look up the username to share it with anyone) and so far that's been the extent of my work as a fan fiction writer. 
> 
> I've finally decided that maybe I should post SOMETHING since my hard-drive is literally FULL to the max of various fan fiction I've written from over the years. 
> 
> So here it is, what I would consider my first public posting of fan fiction, it's unbeta'ed so if anyone feels the want or need to beta this beast for me, let me know and I'll repay you with love and documentary recommendations if you like that sort of things. 
> 
> It's not done and there are giant holes of story missing so it might be a while in between chapters and I don't know when it'll be done, so I'm apologizing in advance for that. 
> 
> kudos are great, comments are great, constructive criticism is great, I'm all for anything that'll make me a better writer. 
> 
> \- Emily

Spencer refused, absolutely refused to throw up on the sidewalk in front of his place of work while the most attractive women that worked in the entire building was walking into the building as Spencer tried to catch his breath. He lived four miles away from the school so it wasn’t outrageous that he’d decided to start running to work a few days a week instead of driving, right? 

Wrong. 

It was outrageous, and now Spencer was paying the price, his stomach and legs refusing to accept this sudden jolt of exercise at the worst time possible. Spencer mustered up a smile as he held his arms above his head and nodded towards the desk clerk, Ally. 

“Good morning, Mr. Smith.” She smiled, looking Spencer up and down as she continued into the building, “Getting back into shape?” 

“Good morning to you too, Ms. Jackson. I appreciate the motivation, I guess.” 

Spencer straightened up and opened the door for them letting her turn for the office as he turned for the teacher’s work room, “Have a good day!” he called when they parted and tried not to wonder if that was too weird or too formal or too… whatever. If he hurried he could change clothes and get a coffee from down the street before classes started. 

\--

“Mr. Smith! Mr. Smith!” 

Spencer turned around to see his second grade students running down the hallway towards his classroom door. “Woah, woah! Slow down! If Principal Way sees you he’s gonna take recess away from all of us!” The kids immediately slowed down (only slightly) to a speed-walk.  
Once they reached his door he let them in one at a time with either a high five or a silly face. Michael Urie stopped at the door before he accepted the high five offered by Spencer and pulled out a note from his pocket, 

“Mr. Smith, my momma told me to give you this note before class!” Spencer smiled, “Cool, dude. Thanks, I’ll be sure to read it, did you read it?” Michael shook his head, “Only some of the words, something about school and my big brother, I think he’s coming to pick me up today!” 

Spencer nodded and finagled his way through the children putting up their backpacks and getting ready for the start of the day. He unfolded the note once he got his desk and read it as he looked for his constantly missing white board markers. 

Mr. Smith, 

I have a meeting that I’m sure will run late this afternoon.  
Michael’s older brother Brendon will be there to walk him home from school today. 

Thank you,  
Linda Urie

\--

“BRENDON!” Michael screeched in only the way a 7 year old can as he raced out the front door of the school ahead of the students who were walking home or getting a ride from their respective adults. Spencer continued walking with the rest of his students, waving to a few parents he saw there to walk their kids home as he saw them. Michael was standing near a young man about Spencer’s age, chattering excitedly as, Spencer assumed, his older sibling grabbed the child’s backpack and put it on his own back, slinging a strap over one shoulder. 

“Mr. Smith!” Michael yelled, pulling his older brother toward Spencer. The brother smiled as he stumbled over his feet trying to keep up with the younger one. “This is Bren, he’s my big brother! He fights bad guys!” Brendon held out his hand for a handshake and continued smiling, 

“Used to fight bad guys and its Brendon. Hi. I’m taking Michael home today, our Mom said she sent a note with him but who knows with 7 year olds, right?” Brendon looked to be a little bit older than Spencer, his face a little bit harder than it should be for someone their age. ‘Used to fight bad guys’ Brendon had said and Spencer wondered what that really meant, hell even Spencer ‘used to fight bad guys’ but that doesn’t mean much to anyone anymore. Spencer then noticed the slight deviation of Brendon’s pupils along with the cloudy film over them and the faded scars on his face. Shit. Spencer realized what Brendon really meant when he said that, he was ‘honorably discharged’ like Spencer was then, destroyed and removed from the battlefield without consent. Spencer shook his hand, 

“Hey. I got your mom’s note; I’m Spencer Smith by the way. Which branch were you in?” Brendon kept his hand on Michael’s shoulder to keep him from running away in his 7 year old excitement. 

“I was a Ranger, 3rd battalion.” 

Michael jumped up and down, “Brendon! Mr. Smith was a solider too! He was in the marines!” 

Spencer laughed, “Good try, I was in the navy though. And not even for a year, you’d think being on a boat would keep you at least a little more safe than a battlefield, huh?” Brendon made a noise of agreement and grinned as he listened (didn’t see… couldn’t see) to Michael running laps around the two adults. 

“All the same work how I see it, no matter what you were doing.” Brendon said, reaching out for Michael and amazingly catching him in mid-jump, “Hey man, I told mom we’d get home in time to start dinner for her, we should get going.” Michael nodded his head like a bobble-head and grabbed Brendon’s hand. 

“Bren, Bren! Can I lead?” Brendon smiled, looking somewhere a foot or so above Michael’s head as he was straightening out his cane. 

Now Spencer couldn’t un-see the blindness, which was stupid when you think about it. Spencer spent almost two months in rehab after he rescued some idiot newbie who feel off the side of the carrier. There were guys in rehab with lost legs, lost arms, lost everything. Spencer knew enough to know that most people got better and obviously Brendon had a handle on his life now, he was good enough to walk through the suburbs by himself and his mother trusted him enough to take a wild child back the same way, but still. Losing your sight sucked way worse than not having a work-able shoulder joint. 

“You’re not going to walk me into anything this time, right? Last time you led I walked into a tree!” Michael bounced and grabbed his brother by the wrist.

“I promise I won’t walk you into any trees, pinky promise!” Michael grabbed Brendon’s hand and Brendon straightened out his pinky so Michael could wrap his around it. Brendon grinned and nodded towards Spencer, 

“It was good to meet you Mr. Smith, sorry you have to deal with this dweeb all day.” Michael squawked when Brendon said that but immediately lost whatever battle he was going to try and start when Brendon rubbed his hair completely and hopelessly out of place. 

“It’s no problem, I’ve seen way more dweeb-y kids than him, have a good afternoon.” Spencer waved at Michael as the walked off, Michael slightly in front, his hand in Brendon’s beginning to chat about his day again, filling Brendon in on the science experiment that lead to half the room being covered in orange slime.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! 
> 
> I guess I should've maybe said this in the beginning, all the torture and kidnapping and negative stuff for the most part won't happen until later on in the story. Like obviously there will be background on Spencer and Brendon as the story goes but the actual, graphic stuff won't happen until later generally speaking. 
> 
> Also I've done a little bit of research but I'll probably be wrong on a lot of things, if you catch something wrong and you want it fixed, please let me know and I'll do my best! 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and the reading, I really appreciate it!

One thing Spencer could probably live without is grading papers. It’s the only thing about being a teacher that Spencer could complain about until the cows come home and Spencer knows that for the most part it’s his fault, he’s the one giving the work after all. 

But still. One man can only read four sentence stories about pumpkins for so long before he turns into a nutcase with an emotional attachment to a pumpkin named ‘Tunkin’. 

After grading half the classes papers Spencer was saved by the ringing of his phone which was… somewhere on his desk. Somewhere. After throwing nearly the entire stack of ‘graded’ papers to the floor he found it, buzzing and chirping away. 

“Hey, is this Spencer Smith?” came the exacerbated voice once Spencer picked up the phone. Spencer blinked and looked down at the ID, not anyone he knew.

“Yes, and who is this?” 

“It’s Brendon, Michael’s older brother?” Michael’s older brother? 

Spencer then remembered the meeting a few weeks ago after school let out. Brendon the Ranger and older brother to his student, Michael. 

“I got your phone number off his school website, they post the contacts for all the teachers in case someone needs it and it sounds totally creepy, I know. But. My ride home from NTSU can’t come today and Michael and Mom are doing some mother/son baseball game or something and she’s not answering her phone. I don’t really know anyone at the college and everyone else is busy, I swear I’m not just trying to lure you into your death. The campus is only 10 minutes from Michael’s school and I’ll totally give you gas money or something. I’d walk but I’ve never walked home from the college before on my own, God, this is totally stupid.” He continued to ramble and Spencer laughed. 

“It’s okay man, yeah I’ll come get you. I got my degree from NTSU so I know the campus pretty well. What building are you at?” 

Brendon sighed in relief, “The Fogg music building. You can’t miss it, I hear.” 

\--

Spencer turned into the driveway in front of the music building and slowed to a stop when he saw Brendon sitting on the bench near the front doors. His cane was leaning against the side of the bench and Brendon was taping his thumb against his fingers, starting on his index finger getting to his pinky and going back again. Spencer would think it was weird but then he remembered how sometimes if he wasn’t paying attention he knocked his elbows on his knees if he was sitting. A lot of guys in combat did that, his therapist used to tell him that it was a coping mechanism for all the ‘hurry up and wait’ they did, even in battle. Spencer rolled down his window, 

“Hey, Brendon, it’s Spencer. My car is about 10 feet in front of you.” 

Brendon’s head snapped up, fingers pausing, and he grinned, “Great,” he stood up and reached out for his cane, missing a few times before he caught it and started making his way to the car, “Thanks again for the ride, my mom hasn’t had time do go through the walk with me so you can blame her for this inconvenience on what I’m sure was a riveting afternoon doing… whatever teachers do.” Brendon reached out for the car and opened the door, dropping his backpack on the floor and sliding into the passenger seat. 

Spencer laughed, “Actually you saved me. I had the kids write stories about sentient pumpkins and let me tell you… a 2nd graders imagination is nothing short of genuinely creepy.” Brendon smiled at the glove compartment and searched around for the seatbelt for a moment before clicking it in place. “I’m not sure of the driving directions to my house from here but the address is 2619 Malcolm Lane.” 

Spencer shrugged, “that’s what GPS’s are for,” and plugged in the address, pulling out of the driveway and turning left. 

The car had a comfortable silence in it save for the radio that was set to some pop chart top 40 playlist. After a few minutes Spencer figured he might as well ask, it would come up eventually anyway. 

“So. A Ranger, huh? That’s some pretty hardcore shit, isn’t it?” 

Brendon looked thoughtful for a moment and shrugged, “I guess. I mean… if I told you anything I’d have to kill you. It’s all very classified stuff, y’know?” Spencer looked over for a second and saw the jest on Brendon’s face, “Although I mean… it was probably more interesting than sitting on some boat in the literal heart of nowheresville, population, the shittiest branch of the military.” 

Spencer gave an incredulous scoff, “Screw you, Mr. ‘classified’ the navy isn’t a joke. We rain plenty of missions that were vital, even helping out rangers a time or two if I remember.” Brendon was still smiling and Spencer cracked a grin. The main job of someone in the military was to harass the guys in the other branches, an important job and second only to… the actual job they were given when they joined. 

“So what happened? It sounds like you didn’t leave the service just for the hell of it.” 

Spencer switched his foot from the brake to the gas when the light changed and sighed, “Uh. A guy in my platoon fell of the deck of the aircraft carrier we were working on. I jumped in after him while the carrier was still moving. Knocked my arm completely out of my shoulder and the current kept pulling me under for about 10 minutes before I found the guy and the rescue team could get their act together.” 

Brendon hissed under his breath, “Damn, reason number 47 why I don’t swim in open water.” 

“What about you?”

“I was running point for an op in Iraq. My convoy hit an IED and the guys that set it there ambushed those of us that survived. I went to set off a flashbang and one of them shot it while it was in my hand. The light and the shrapnel create a pretty shitty reaction. They almost didn’t bring in a hawk for us because they thought we were all dead but one of the other guys radioed in and pulled the ‘rangers don’t leave other rangers behind card’ to get us out.” Brendon shrugged and looked toward the direction of Spencer’s question. 

“That sucks, man. I mean, really shitty,” Spencer looked over at Brendon and Brendon huffed a laugh, 

“Well, hey. I get to go back to school, grow out my hair again, my parents pay for everything, and ladies love the ‘I can’t find the bar, can you help me?’ line” 

Spencer groaned, “Man, maybe I should’ve gotten a more visible injury, girls don’t really care about a guy who can’t lift his arm above his head.” 

Brendon looked gleeful at his apparent lady success as they continued down the road.

“So, is there a girl?” Spencer asked as he turned right into the neighborhood. 

Brendon smiled at the dashboard of the car and laughed, “Uh… Well there was. One of the physical therapists from rehab was pretty cute. We went on a few dates but apparently she was also dating some joe schmo who lost both his legs.” Spencer choked on his own breath and almost had to stop the car while he was laughing, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. It’s totally hilarious. What about you, Mr. Cool?” 

Once Spencer finally recovered from his laughing spell he flopped his hand around near the steering wheel, glad that Brendon couldn’t see it, “There’s this pretty hot girl who works at the front desk at the elementary school. I’ve almost asked her out a few times but I think she’s looking for something else. And there’s also this smokin’ barista at the coffee shop near the school, he’s got the best smile and I’m a sucker for guys with wild hair.” 

Brendon nodded and looked totally serious, “what, they’re not into threesomes?”

Spencer blinked, “Well that’s nothing something that comes up in conversation with people who still have their verbal filter and I’m a fan of monogamy. Besides, I think having a threesome would look bad on my resume as a ‘wholesome childhood educator’” 

Brendon got his turn to laugh as Spencer pulled up in front of his house, a small one-story building with a modest yard and red bricks lining the walkway up to the front door. Spencer put the car in park and Brendon caught on fast that he was home, “Well… thanks for the ride, I can give Michael the gas money and have him give it to you?” Spencer waved his hand in the typical ‘no don’t worry about it’ gesture, mostly for himself. 

“Don’t worry about it. Hey, I don’t know how much you know about the VA here but they have co-ed sports and stuff at night during the weeks for injured vets. I play soccer on Thursday’s with a bunch of guys, they’ll find a way to let you play, we’ve got those beeping soccer balls and stuff so you won’t get smacked by the ball… at least not without warning. You should come next week.” 

Spencer rambled as Brendon unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, pulling his backpack onto his shoulders and feeling for the walkway with his foot, standing up and shutting the car door once he found it. Spencer rolled the window down so he could here Brendon’s response.

“Uh. I mean. Yeah. Actually that sounds pretty cool, I can’t promise I won’t end up kicking someone in the face but I’ll give it a shot. My parents and Michael keep telling me to get out of the house more. Um, shoot me a text with times and stuff?” 

“Sure, I’ve got your number in my call log.” 

Brendon nodded and flopped his hand in a wave goodbye and following the path up to the front door without his cane. Spencer waited to leave until he got inside and pulled away from the curb.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last mostly-PG rated chapter here. All the 'bad' stuff or whatever you'd wanna call it is going to start showing up. Lucky for me, most of that is written so I won't be creating chapters around sentences that just say 'Spencer and Brendon go play soccer with no skills'
> 
> Cool, happy reading!

Spencer put the car into park, turned the key out of the ignition and jumped out. Before he could even make it halfway up the steps to Brendon and Michael’s house Michael came busting out of the doorway, tumbling down the steps. 

“MR. SMITH, MR. SMITH, CAN I GO PLAY SOCCER WITH YOU GUYS?!?!” Spencer smiled and shrugged his shoulders but Brendon appeared in the doorway before he could answer. 

“Michael you’re too small to play soccer with us, it won’t be as fun for you.” Brendon said, picking up a small Timbuk2 back from behind the doorframe and adjusting it on his shoulder. Michael huffed but waved at Spencer and walked back inside when his mother called for him. She appeared behind Brendon a few seconds later.

“Hello, Mr. Smith, or should you be Spencer right now?” She laughed and Spencer shrugged in a ‘whatever you want’ gesture, “Make sure you don’t let my boy show off too much, wouldn’t want the seeing guys to have their egos damaged.” Brendon looked away, embarrassed as his mother kissed him on the cheek and shooed him down onto the brick path. Brendon wasn’t bringing his cane with him tonight because there would never really be a time he could use it unless he wanted to cheat and just start whacking people on the soccer field. 

Spencer greeted Brendon and walked ahead to the car, opening the passenger door for Brendon and getting in on the driver’s side, “I’ll have him home by 8, Mrs. Urie” she waved her hand from the doorway in a goodbye and shut the door as Michael stared out the living room window. 

\--

Depending on the day there could be anywhere from 4 to 12 people playing soccer at the park across the street from the VA hospital. Tonight there were 8, including Brendon and Spencer. Once they parked the car and got out Brendon grabbed onto Spencer’s upper arm and let him direct them towards the field. 

Spencer waved to the group players pulling out soccer balls from the giant mesh bag. One of the guys, Pete, jogged up to Brendon and Spencer and clapped Spencer on the back,

“Hey man, how’re the kids and who’s your friend?” Pete asked. 

Pete had served during the Gulf War as a medic and had lost both legs below the knee while he was trying to save a guy from his squad. Before he joined the military he was a star soccer player in high school and once he got home from the war he immediately started looking for any kind of prosthetics to help him play soccer again. Pete had been leading everything soccer at the VA since the mid-90s, never missing a night. 

“They’re good, no one’s cried about getting their clothes ruined by the science projects yet. This is Brendon, served in Iraq for a few years and hadn’t heard about soccer nights yet so I invited him to come, is Frank here tonight?” 

Frank was the only other blind vet who played soccer with them on Thursdays so Spencer thought it wouldn’t hurt to introduce him to Brendon and see if there were any tips he could give Brendon on avoiding severe injury. 

“Yeah, Patrick is showing him the field since it’s been a while since he last came. Hey Brendon, I’m Pete I lead this whole soccer thing, want me to show you the field?” 

Brendon nodded, “Sure, where can I put my water and stuff?” 

“Spencer can take them, everybody put their stuff on the bleachers today.” 

Brendon shrugged his bag off and handed his water to Spencer. After that Pete bumped into him and waited for Brendon to grab onto his arm so they could walk the field. 

\--

Soccer went surprisingly well. Spencer was on a team with Frank (“You’re friends with Brendon, you’ll cheat if you’re on the same team, it’s happened before.”) a guy named Justin who played goalie despite only having one arm and a woman named Haley. Brendon’s team had Pete as the goalie, Patrick and Vicky, all veterans to Thursday night soccer except for Brendon. 

Brendon only ate it once, and the fall wasn’t even that bad. He was running for the soccer ball and ran directly into Haley who had the same idea in mind. Brendon apologized profusely to Haley and Haley apologized profusely right back and after about a minute of that Pete hauled Brendon off the ground and announced that they “weren’t playing peewee soccer, no one is bleeding let’s just play”. 

After the game Pete let Brendon take one of the beeping soccer balls home with him considering there were at least 10 at the VA and it was presented in such a way that Spencer was sure it was a tiny bit of an insult to Brendon’s soccer skills which were… less than stellar. Brendon didn’t seem to mind though and dropped the ball at his feet, kicking it towards where he assumed the car was parked. 

“Can you see anything?” Spencer asked, walking them towards the car and kicking the soccer ball shortly through the grass in that direction, Brendon’s hand on his upper arm as they left the park. 

Brendon laughed, “You must have perfect vision or something. That’s not really how it works. Like, before this I couldn’t see far away, like everything got fuzzy and if it was far enough it just… disappeared. So certain stuff is just kinda… gone.” The soccer ball beeped as it rolled down a short incline towards the parking lot. As Brendon got closer and he kicked it on the side, moving it toward Spencer. 

“Okay, okay. Fair enough. What can you see then?”

Brendon laughed, “ Uh. Reds are good, if someone is wearing a red shirt I can sometimes pick them out. Purple and yellow are good too. None of that helps at night though, everything I’ve got goes to shit at night or if the lighting sucks. A couple months after I got out the VA I could read something if the font was like… you know, size 72 or whatever but that fizzled out. Mostly now its just shadows and a few colors.” Spencer kicked the ball, aiming for one of the front tires and walked Brendon towards the passenger side of the car. 

“When I first got out of surgery I could move my shoulder all the way around and then the next day I couldn’t move my arm at all. The guys at the VA here still think I’ll get full mobility back but I think they say that kind of shit to everyone.” 

Brendon nodded and reached for the soccer ball, “Dude, you remember that girl I was telling you about? From rehab? She kept telling me that I’d get all my vision back. I think they’re paid to be that optimistic just in case we decide to sue the government one day for all the money we should be getting from them.” 

Brendon opened the door and dropped the soccer ball onto the floor of the car, setting his bag there as well and sat down as Spencer walked over to the driver’s side. “No shit though, man. I thought I was going to start puking rainbows and unicorns when I was in rehab. After all that I needed a rehab from rehab.” 

The drive back to Brendon’s house was pretty uneventful despite Brendon’s constant need to mess with every button and dial on Spencer’s dashboard. The drive was only 30 minutes but it felt like 30 hours and now Spencer knew where Michael’s inability to sit still in the classroom came from, “Fuck, man. No wonder Michael’s such a spaz, how did anyone even last with you in their Humvee without driving it off a cliff?” Spencer complained after Brendon found the button that turned the bass in the music completely off and the treble completely up. On Katy Perry. 

Spencer could see Brendon smiling a Cheshire grin as he reached for the button that would turn on the hazard lights and he smacked Brendon’s hands away. Brendon cackled and slid down in his seat. “What, you can’t tell me you guys never messed with buttons on the ship.” 

“No.” Spencer snipped, resetting the music back to the proper levels, “We didn’t, because pressing the wrong button on the ship could shoot a missile at South Africa, or Australia or anywhere else that we shouldn’t be blowing up.” 

Spencer wasn’t really that pissed off, and given the stupid look on Brendon’s face the guy knew as much. Spencer turned onto Brendon’s street and pulled his car up to the curb, “There. You’re home. Get out, I deal with enough Urie at school.” 

Brendon gave a long-suffering sigh and opened the door, grabbing his bag and standing up before he grabbed the soccer ball, “blah blah blah, man you Navy guys really are boring. Glad I was never holed up with you in the desert.” 

Brendon smiled before he shut the door, “Despite your utterly lame attitude toward car travel this was fun, I guess I could be friends with a Navy guy.” 

Spencer scoffed, “I thought we were already friends? I mean, we both have to deal with the same rugrat, I thought that was an immediate in.” 

Brendon shrugged, “I was a Ranger, my standards are much higher than that, we’ve gotta get stone cold drunk for a true friendship to occur. I’m going out with some guys on Saturday, mostly army guys but I’m sure they won’t mind having you tag along, you up for it?” 

Spencer wasn’t sure what the army’s version of stone cold drunk was, but he could probably handle it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! There is a mention of a suicide attempt in this chapter so just fyi, that's here. I've tagged everything ahead of time but I thought I'd let y'all know when it was actually happening so I'll do the same for the other more intense tags. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Turns out Spencer can handle the army’s version of Stone Cold Drunk. 

Also it turns out Stone Cold Drunk turns into Drop Dead Hungover for the next two days but at least Spencer didn’t do anything embarrassing like flirt with the 18 year old bartender or try and solicit sex from the bouncer at the second club they went to. 

(Not that either of those things has ever happened before. At least, not that Spencer remembers.) 

Brendon and Spencer occasionally texted each other over the next few weeks, talking about going back to Thursday night soccer or hanging out to play video games. Brendon picked up Michael once a few days after the Stone Cold Drunk Event but Spencer was watching a fellow teacher’s class and didn’t have time to say hi. 

Currently though, Spencer was making his usual circuit around the playground while the kids were having recess. Spencer walked from the blacktop around the two classroom portable buildings through the playground and past the soccer field at least four times during the time of recess. The other second grade teachers sat at the picnic tables, giving them a good view of the students but Spencer hated listening to their teacher gossip and the kids seemed to actually enjoy seeing a teacher walking around. 

“NO ONE EVEN LIKES YOU!” Spencer heard as he finished his circuit around the playground, headed towards the soccer field. He turned to look under the slide and saw Michael Urie slapping one of the boys in Mr. Toro’s class and Spencer ran towards the two. 

“Michael! Principal’s office, NOW!” Michael turned around and glared at Spencer. The little boy he’d hit was on the verge of tears and Spencer coaxed him out from under the slide and looked for Mr. Toro. He spotted him by the basketball goals and waved him over. 

“What happened?” Mr. Toro called while he jogged over. 

“I’m not sure, Michael slapped him and now we’re going to the principal’s office, you might want to take your student to the nurse.” Spencer looked down at Michael and pointed towards the school building, “March, Michael.” 

\--

Principal Way called in Michael’s mom and the aunt of the boy that Michael hit after school. Michael spent the afternoon in the office and after a few minutes of unnecessary sobbing and a lollipop the other boy went back to his class. 

Spencer stood outside Mr. Way’s office while he talked to Mrs. Urie and Michael and from the looks of it Michael probably wasn’t in that much trouble. He really was a good kid, his homework was never late and besides this outburst he hadn’t ever been mean to any other kid so Spencer couldn’t imagine anything too terrible happening. Once Principal Way was done talking Mrs. Urie stood up and Michael followed behind her, sulking. Spencer tried to offer her a smile and she offered a grimace of her own back, “Mr. Smith, I was wondering if I could talk to you before we left. Michael, go sit down over there please, we’ll go home soon.” Michael, with all the solemn sadness a 7 year old could muster, walked over to the chairs and slumped into one. 

“I know you and Brendon have been spending more time together recently and I was wondering if he’s said anything about… well… you know…” 

Spencer lifted his eyebrow at Mrs. Urie and shook his head, “No, I don’t think I know what you’re talking about, we’ve just talked about y’know regular stuff.” 

Mrs. Urie sighed, “Brendon gets into dark places sometimes ever since he came back from the army. We can usually just leave him to his vices but this time… a few days ago I was at work and Michael was at school and Brendon got into the alcohol cabinet in his dad’s office. When we came home he was… he was throwing things and punching the walls and I think he scared Michael.” She sighed, “I think maybe that’s why Michael acted out, he doesn’t really understand what happened to Brendon or why he was away for so much of his life before now.” 

Spencer tried to think back to the few times he’d hung out with Brendon, he seemed happy enough but Spencer knew from his own experience how easily something small could fester behind a good façade. 

“Well I mean… Brendon and I aren’t that close but I could try and talk to him. It might help more coming from another vet than from some random therapist.” 

Mrs. Urie’s face brightened, “Oh, that would be great. He hasn’t been going to his classes for a few days either, I just want him to feel better, you understand. He’s my son. I just want both of my boys to be happy.” 

\--

About an hour later Spencer found himself standing in the doorway of Brendon’s room. The curtains were drawn tight and the only light reaching into the room was from the hallway and Brendon was presumably under the lump of blankets on the bed. 

“What’s with the doom and gloom theme you’ve got going on in here?” Spencer asked, sitting down on the floor and leaning up against the bed frame. There was no response from Brendon and Spencer started picking at the fuzz on the carpet. Spencer knew Brendon was awake and gave him a few more minutes before speaking again.

“A year after I got sent home I stole my mom’s exact-o knife and tried to slit my wrists. My uh… My shoulder was still so bad that I couldn’t get a deep enough cut and my mom caught me before I could try the second one. We’ve all been through terrible shit, man. Sometimes those therapists are full of shit but it helps to talk about it.” Brendon didn’t move for another minute or so until his hand snuck out from under the blankets. He held his hand out, palm up and wiggled his fingers. 

“Show.” 

Spencer blinked and put his wrist in Brendon’s waiting hand. Brendon’s fingers ran over the slightly raised line that ran vertically down Spencer’s forearm. It wasn’t as noticeable as it used to be if anything Spencer thought most people didn’t even know if it was there, there was no reason to assume it was. 

Brendon dropped Spencer’s wrist and slid the covers off him enough so that he could lean against the wall. Once he was settled Spencer toed his shoes off and sat down on the bed next to him and waited for Brendon to speak.

“I got lost the other day.” Brendon’s hair was frazzled, his bangs falling into his eyes but Brendon was busy playing with the hem of his shirt to notice. “I left my phone and my cane at home because I thought I remembered where I was going but I couldn’t find my way back. It… I thought… It felt like I was back in the desert just… a sitting duck waiting for something to land on me. My mom found me ten feet down the sidewalk from the house.” 

Spencer picked at the comforter underneath him, “That’s a setback if I’ve ever seen one. So you drank it away? That’s a dumbass move” Brendon shoved Spencer but there was no malice behind it. 

“As dumb a move as Michael pushing that kid?” 

“He did it because of you. Seeing his older brother throwing shit around the house has some repercussions. He looks up to you, anytime I let the kids tell stories or draw or some shit it’s always about you. ‘Mr. Smith, my brother climbed the tallest tree in our backyard’ ‘Mr. Smith, did you know that one time my brother shot a 50 foot dragon and took one of it’s scales as a trophy?’”

Brendon choked out a laugh and sniffled, “Well… that one is more age appropriate than the real story.” 

\--

“I never got to actually see Michael.” Spencer and Brendon had migrated to the backyard, sitting in a pair of porch chairs they had dragged to the farthest fence of the yard. The sun was setting behind them and Spencer waited for Brendon to explain what he meant. 

“I came home between my first two tours and mom was pregnant. After my second tour I went to RASP for training and… I never got home, tours interfered with Ranger operations and home was just this far off thing. I saw him in pictures and we skyped a few times but the next time I was home. It was like this.” 

“Do you regret it?” Spencer always went back and forth when he asked himself this question. Did he regret the navy or did he just regret saving that guy and getting hurt as a consequence? Any other vets he talked to always had the same issue, was serving your country really worth losing your arms, your legs, your sight, your family? 

Brendon starred ahead and shrugged, “Not really. Sometimes I wish I could still see but I know what I was doing over there was right. Sure I wish I didn’t kill people and that I wasn’t part of this war machine of democracy but I did good over there, I saved people so they could be free to live in how they wanted in peace.” Brendon shrugged again, “Why? Do you regret it?” 

Spencer looked down at his hands, “Most days I don’t.” 

Spencer was about to say more but then Michael appeared at the backdoor, “Mr. Smith, mom wants to know if you’re staying for dinner and I want to know if you can show her that trick with orange peels and fire.” 

Spencer looked at his watch, it was around 6 o’clock and he didn’t have a plan for dinner besides a package of ramen noodles and maybe a beer so it probably wouldn’t hurt to eat a real dinner. “Sure, I’ll stay and if it’s alright with your mom I’ll show her.” Michael nodded and ran back into the house. 

Spencer stood up and tapped Brendon on the shoulder, “Guess I’m sticking around for good, right? Dinner sounds like the next step after the Stone Cold Drunk event.” 

Brendon stood up and held onto Spencer’s upper arm to lead him back into the house, “Yeah, I could probably stand to keep you around for a while.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is sort of short and I don't really have an excuse for it. The next chapter will be MUCH longer :) Hope everyone is having a good week so far!

“Do you even listen to the words that come out of your mouth?” Brendon pulled out one of his earbuds after asking Spencer to repeat himself again. 

After what they were now calling the Slap Event, Brendon and Spencer had started meeting at the coffee shop every Friday before school started for Spencer and Brendon met with his ride to his classes. The school year was coming to a close and Spencer had just made known what he called ‘the best idea ever’. 

The best idea ever being… the actual worst idea ever. 

“What’s wrong with the words I just said? It sounds like a great idea” Spencer huffed, putting his coffee down next to his grade book and flipping it open. 

“Operation Proper Exit sounds like a terrible idea and not that you would know but I turned down that offer once already from the VA.” Brendon responded. 

“Wait, what? They already offered it to you? Why didn’t you go?” Spencer had only heard of Operation Proper Exit a few days ago and he almost wished there was one for guys like him. 

Operation Proper Exit was cooked up after the military realized how many guys they sent home from war beaten and broken, not only physically, but also mentally. They started to send small groups of wounded soldiers back to Iraq to confront the battlefields that almost took their lives, believing that it would give the soldiers some sense of closure, being able to leave under their own power and not on a gurney. 

Spencer spent an hour or two looking it up a few nights ago and there didn’t seem to be any complaints about it, the men and women really seemed to appreciate the right to return to their old stomping grounds and face memories that had tormented them for so long. Spencer and Brendon could pretend all they wanted that everything was fine but they both knew something needed to change, even before The Slap Event. 

“Dude, I don’t need to go back there to remember how it felt and I’m not hung up on how I left, I don’t even remember.” 

Spencer sighed, took a sip of his coffee and began grading the stack of papers in front of him. 

\--

“I found a way that I can go with you, if you’re worried about being alone in the big scary deserts of old.” Spencer watched the split screen as Brendon moved his character forward and Spencer set a land mine on the ground about 10 feet away.

Brendon shoved Spencer against the arm of the couch, “Fuck off, I told you already, I’m not going.” Brendon moved his character forward, straight into the land mine, blowing up his character. Brendon dropped his controller to the ground and groaned, “You’re a grade A asshole, y’know that?” 

\--

“The deadline for the paperwork is in two weeks. You’re really sure you don’t wanna go back? What did your therapist said?” 

Brendon aimed the straw from his cup of water towards the sound of Spencer’s voice and threw it, hitting Spencer just before he moved out of the way, leaving water droplets on some poor kids worksheet that Spencer was vaguely attempting to grade.

“What my therapist and I talk about is confidential, just like what I do with your mom.” 

Spencer smacked Brendon upside the head from across the table and grabbed a piece of ice from his water, dropping it down Brendon’s shirt as he protested. 

\--

“They call each other ‘Battle Buddies’. ‘Cause that doesn’t sound a little too kiddie the clown to anyone involved” in a stunning turn of events Brendon had the home page of Operation Proper Exit open on his laptop and he was listening to his voice program read off the page. Spencer and Brendon were in the farthest corner in the library at NTSU on a Wednesday night working on their various projects. 

“I hope that’s your biggest hang up about this whole thing, your mom and dad already said it was a good idea.” Brendon scrunched his face up and gave Spencer the most sarcastic look he could muster. 

“Oh, so you asked them to marry me while you were at it? What happened to your barista guy?” 

Spencer shrugged for himself and made a non-committed noise, “Who says I haven’t changed my mind on that polygamy idea of yours? Besides, I’d only marry you if you had at least $2 million to your name.” 

“I’m only worth $2 million?” 

\--

“None of that touchy-feely shit happens on the trip, right? You know that ice breaker junk and ‘how does that make you feel’ crap?” Brendon asked, one headphone in listening to his current obsession, Mexican rap music, while he and Spencer slowed to a walk on the sidewalk on Saturday. 

Spencer’s phone announced that they were at mile 4 of their run and he directed them back to the front of the park using the tether (today it was an old and twisted t-shirt) between he and Brendon let Brendon know they were turning. 

“Nope, it’s just a bunch of drinking, smoking and cursing. Obviously.” 

Brendon responded with a punch to Spencer’s side. 

\--

“Okay, okay. Fine. We’ll go do Operation Proper Exit, as long as it’ll make you and my therapist, for that matter, shut up about all that ‘moving on’ crap” Brendon sighed on Monday, again at the library, four days before the paperwork was due. 

Spencer looked up from his laptop and blinked at Brendon, “Wait, you’re serious?” 

“Yeah man, don’t make a big deal out of it, where’s the stuff I have to sign, I know you’ve got it printed out somewhere.” 

Spencer laughed and searched through his backpack, finding the page that Brendon needed to sign and grabbing up a pen to take to Brendon’s side of the table. He put the pen in Brendon’s hand and put his finger on the line that needed to be signed, letting Brendon find it himself because Spencer is still obviously the asshole best friend. 

“The paperwork is just a bunch of jargon about not holding the military responsible for anything you do in your drunken stupor, God and country rule the world, all that stuff. Your mom filled out everything else for you.” 

“Of course she did.” Brendon rolled his eyes and signed the form. “This better not suck.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there! So here's the deal. I don't know Arabic, but that is a language that will be happening for the new couple of chapters. If something happens in Arabic it will either be in italicized english or italicized english letters but the Arabic words... if that makes sense. 
> 
> I'm also probably going to start switching from 3rd person limited to Spencer to 3rd person limited to Brendon soon, but I will let you know when that happens so you're not confused. 
> 
> Also, things are gonna get kinda rough and violent. Sorry. (Except not really).

“I bet even I could beat you at cards, man.” Brendon scoffed, taking a sip from his beer and putting it back on the ground next to the folding chair he was occuping, the desert wind howling outside their tent on the base just north of Baghdad. 

After landing at the airport near the base at some God awful time in the morning they had eaten in the mess hall, visited the operating room a few of them had actually ended up in, and spoken to many of the soldiers still currently stationed at the base. There were about 14 of them on the trip, each having been paired up with another member of the group before the trip to be ‘battle buddies’. Luckily the people in charge had paired Brendon and Spencer together anyway. 

Currently it was post-dinner and Spencer was attempting to learn a card game that was similar to poker but different in every single way. A ‘battle buddy’ pairing was playing with Spencer, Jon Walker and Ryan Ross, while Brendon was hassling Spencer about his presumed card playing abilities. 

“Nobody likes a bragger, Urie” Spencer responded, turning over his hand and sighing as Jon reached out and took the beer bottle, two quarters and bag of pretzels that were in the center of the table as the jackpot. 

Brendon laughed first when he heard Spencer sigh, knowing he’d lost, and then laughed harder when he heard Jon taking away what he had won. Brendon leaned back in his chair and spoke in Arabic before translating, “Determination is the key to everything… so eventually you’ll win… although not until you lose everything first, dillweed.” 

In between soccer games, video games and hours spent in the library and the coffee shop Spencer learned that not only did Brendon know Arabic but he was practically a scholar in the damn language. He’d been learning it since he was in elementary school thanks to an influx of students from Jordan and Lebanon. Once he joined the military they put him in classes to strengthen his knowledge and even though most of the time he was used as cover fire or sniper coverage they also took him into missions were a translator would be needed. 

Jon laughed and shrugged an unspoken apology towards Spencer, “So more tipsy poker or what?” 

“I think they’re watching some feel good military movie in the mess hall. ‘US servicemen are the greatest resource there is, we pay ‘em shit and they still die for our right to eat happy meals’ we could do that,” Ryan responded, stealing a pretzel from Jon’s won bag. Brendon scoffed and reached down to find his beer that was sitting on the floor. 

“I’m going to go find more beer and hoard it all to myself in my bunk,” Brendon finished off his beer and grabbed his cane off his side of the table, “See you in the morning, Spencer, don’t pawn off your house.” 

Spencer reached back and whacked Brendon in the arm then grabbed the cards and started shuffling them, “come on, assholes, I’m ready to win my pretzels back.” 

\--

For the first time on the trip Spencer could see that Brendon was actually interested in what they were about to do. It wasn’t that he didn’t pay attention or that he didn’t care about the other things it’s just; Brendon (and Spencer too, if he was being honest with himself) kind of expected more of this trip and that they wouldn’t be spending so much down time while at the base. Brendon had finally convinced Spencer, Jon and Ryan that they should go to the neighborhood just shy of the base. The soldiers said they often played a game of pick-up soccer with the teenagers in the neighborhood and Brendon had managed to sneak his beeping soccer ball past the contraband inspection at the base and was forcing Spencer to carry it while they walked off the base and into the neighborhood. 

Ryan was learning how to be Brendon’s eyes so on this little adventure Brendon had his hand on Ryan’s upper arm as they walked beside the rows of houses on the way to the plaza. Jon and Spencer were following behind them, smiling at the people they saw and waving hello when it seemed appropriate. 

Once they reached the center of the neighborhood they could see there were already children playing, although some of them stopped when they saw the men in their military fatigues. 

Brendon turned around and reached his hand out for the soccer ball, Spencer handed it over. Brendon smiled at the direction of the children and offered his ball up as a greeting, he then spoke in Arabic, introducing Spencer, Ryan and Jon and turned on the beeper inside the ball. One of the children came up to Brendon and picked up the ball, inspecting it. There was a brief conversation between Brendon and the boy, Spencer assumed about why the ball was beeping and if it was safe and after about a minute he kicked the ball over to his friends and pulled Brendon over to the group of kids. 

Brendon looked back, “They’re going to let us play, or well… they’re going to let us get beat in our attempt to play.” 

\-- 

The kids made it a point, almost from the first play, to spend most of the game trying to knock Brendon over. Brendon had gotten pretty good at soccer over the past few months so he had gotten pretty good at avoiding collisions but in the first five minutes Brendon was tripped by a foot stuck out by one of the older boys. Brendon laughed as he got up, brushing the dirt off his jacket and reached out to shake hands with the boy, “Only once, huh?” he offered, making the boy laughed as he took Brendon’s hand to help him up. 

After that the only time Brendon fell was when he hit an uneven patch in the dusty ground. They played for about 30 minutes before something caught the eye of one of the younger boys. Spencer tried to keep up with the game but also try and see if what the boy saw was an actual threat. There were many members of the neighborhood outside, sitting on their porches or otherwise watching the American’s get their asses handed to them by a bunch of kids but no one looked suspicious. 

The boy left the game, walking down the alleyway that he had been looking and a few of the neighbors left, either going inside their houses or leaving the area. Spencer tried to let it go, this neighborhood was safe, it was a mere mile and a half from the base, why would they have anything to worry about? 

The game hurdled to a stop when four men walked into the plaza, all of them with guns on their backs. The children backed away and Spencer tried to move closer to Brendon and Jon before one of the men aimed his gun at Spencer in a very obvious ‘stay back’ gesture. 

Brendon sucked in a shallow breath when the gun was pressed against his back, the soccer ball sitting on the ground next to him, beeping away. The man who had aimed his gun at Spencer was now closer, keeping him from moving anywhere unless he wanted a bullet in his chest. The children had left minutes ago and only a few men where standing around, waiting to see what would happen.

“We mean no harm. We are peaceful, _la moshkelah_ ,” no problem. Of course Brendon would tell the man there’s no problem with a gun to his back. The man smacked Brendon on the side of his head and pulled on Brendon’s military jacket as a point of contention, yelling a few choice words that Spencer assumed were not very nice. Brendon tried again, his hands up in surrender, to find some way out of the situation but the moment words started to fall from his lips another man aimed for Brendon’s face. Brendon didn’t duck because obviously he didn’t see it and the man put his face inches from Brendon’s. He blinked a few times and then ran his hand in the air, passing it back and forth in front of Brendon’s eyes, looking for a reaction. 

The man then walked towards Jon, who happened to be the closest to them and angled his head towards Brendon, “blind?” he asked.

“Yes,” Brendon answered. 

The man walked back over to Brendon and grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket, pulling it even more out of place and exposing the one thing Spencer hoped wouldn’t be exposed in this exchange. The man caught it too. 

“Fuck.”

Ryan looked over to Spencer, his fear clamped down tight but his concern still on high alert, “What?” 

Spencer sighed, “Brendon’s tattoo.”

The man pulled Brendon’s jacket off and tossed it aside. He then pulled the neck of Brendon’s shirt back to fully display Brendon’s Ranger Insignia tattoo for the gunman to see. If this was bothering Brendon in any way he was doing a really good job of not showing it. 

“You are Special Forces?” he asked. 

Brendon shrugged his shoulders, “Ranger.” 

“Even better.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So everyone seemed really excited for the next chapter after the cliffhanger I left y'all with and I'M really excited for this next chapter so here it is. The next chapter. Waaaaay earlier than usual. Have fun!

It seemed that for the time being all four of the soldiers had resigned themselves to their fate. If anything someone on the base would notice soon that they were missing and put out an ABP on them or something. They had signed out at the base saying they’d be back by 1200 so it would take a while for them to catch that they were even gone. 

Spencer knew from the moment the men stepped onto the playing field that they were screwed. He should’ve known better, they all should’ve, in an active warzone safety is a relative notion and when you’re in the military you’re never safe. Every US servicemen knows that there’s a bounty on his head when he walks into the Middle East and retired servicemen are no different. 

Before they were taken to a truck the men checked Spencer, Jon and Ryan for any weapons and any signs that they were special forces or rangers like Brendon and when they realized it was just Brendon they kept him separate from the others, even on the drive out of the neighborhood and further into the desert. 

“You guys okay?” Spencer whispered to Jon and Ryan. They were all close enough in the truck that they could probably have a brief conversation without the men in the truck noticing, although Brendon was out of luck. Jon only nodded and Ryan shrugged. 

Spencer nodded back and looked to the other side of the truck to see Brendon, the man who had approached him originally still had the gun pressed to Brendon’s side and a tight hold on his arm. 

The truck passed by at least four villages and one small town, the road was smooth and flat which meant they probably had gone at least 40 miles out by the time they stopped. Once the truck was brought to a halt the soldiers were prodded up out of their seats and pushed out of the truck and into the encampment set up by the men just outside of the village they were now in, the women shielding their faces, the man staring and the children being steered away from the scene as they arrived. Brendon was hesitant to step out of the truck but the man got out and pulled Brendon with him, keeping him mostly upright and then directing everyone to the campsite.

\--

Outside of the four men, who seemed to be the ones in charge of this arrangement, there were six more men at the campsite. The man who had driven the truck disappeared into a tent and the two men watching Spencer, Jon and Ryan passed them off to the new men, Spencer assumed the guards. They had rope, zip ties and baton sticks with them and they made quick work of tying the three soldiers to a tree on the edge of the campsite. At least they had let them take their army jackets off before completely rendering them helpless. 

Unfortunately they also forced them out of their shoes and socks which meant running was going to be much more of an effort if they found the right time to try it. 

The man with Brendon continued to hold him at gunpoint while Spencer and the duo were taken care of and once they were settled he directed Brendon to a post in the near middle of the campsite. He barked for one of the guards and had them zip tie his hands and then knotted a section of rope around his chest and middle. Brendon had gone limp but not annoyingly so while they did this and once they were done the man grabbed Brendon’s chin and hissed directly into his ear. Brendon didn’t respond but he did turn his head away from the man and spit into the dirt, turning back and grinning before earning himself a slap to the face. Brendon shrugged and let his head loll back onto the post. 

\--

Spencer squirmed against his binds as more sweat dripped down his back. At least he and the others were in the shade, unlike Brendon. They couldn’t have been at the campsite for more than an hour but Brendon was already starting to go red on his shoulders and on the tip of his nose. The post Brendon was tied to was small enough that Brendon had turned in on himself to bring his hands closer to his front. Despite being out for two years Brendon was well trained and Spencer knew that he was trying to make himself a smaller target, both for the sun and for the men in the camp. 

Spencer knew Brendon was playing a tough guy act to show that he wasn’t worried but Brendon had begun to tap away with his finger and even from as far away as he was, Spencer could see it. Spencer remembered first seeing it months ago, when he had to pick up Brendon from his class when he couldn’t catch a ride with anyone else. Brendon didn’t do it often but it was often enough that Spencer had seen it happen even when Brendon was just bored. 

“Bren. It’s gonna be okay,” Spencer called out. 

Brendon lifted his head off the post and tilted it towards Spencer. His tapping stopped briefly but after a few seconds the tapping started up again. Brendon gave a sloppy nod and shrugged, “I know. Are you guys okay?” 

“Yeah, we’re fine, man,” Jon responded before Spencer could answer. The corners of Brendon’s mouth turned up in a smile.

“Jonny-boy, I almost forgot you and Ryan were here. Havin’ fun yet, boys?” 

Jon chocked on a laugh and kicked his foot in the sand, “More fun than your mom, that’s for damn sure.” 

\--

The rest of the day was uneventful. No one seemed concerned that the army would be coming to rescue their men and to be honest; the soldiers didn’t seem to think that they were going to be rescued so soon. There were sounds of a firefight to the east in the middle of the afternoon, but nothing came their way.

As night fell on the camp a few of the guards took it upon themselves to rough up the group of soldiers they now had at their disposal. They took great pleasure in knowing that Brendon wouldn’t see a kick coming and even if he did he couldn’t fight back. Spencer was pretty sure one of his fingers was broken thanks to a swift kick to his hand by one of the guards who had taken a liking to using his feet to get what he wanted. A fire was started in the middle of the camp to give light to the guards keeping watch during the night and three men stood watch over them. When the last few lights were going out at the camp Brendon started to hum, loud enough that Spencer, Jon and Ryan could hear it and Spencer groaned. 

“Katy Perry. Really, dude?” 

The light from the fire in the middle of the camp reflected towards Brendon’s face. He had his trademark shit-eating grin on his face, his eyes unfocused and hazy and the beginnings of his sunburns looked even worse in the reflection of the campfire than with the sun beating down on them.

“I could start humming Justin Timberlake, I know how much you looooove him.”

Jon and Ryan scoffed but Spencer could tell they were smiling and at least Brendon was entertained, until the guard that was watching him kicked him and muttered in Arabic something along the lines of ‘shut your mouth’.

Brendon kept humming until he was finished with the Katy Perry song he started with and he let his head hang for a minute before lifting his head up again. 

“You know what would’ve been great? If they had forgotten to take our shoes.” 

Brendon accentuated his feelings with a weak kick to the dirt near his post. Despite the lack of sun there was still an even sheen of sweat covering every inch of him. While Brendon could probably last a few more days without food in the blazing heat Spencer was hoping that they’d either get out or be rescued soon, he didn’t really want to listen to his mouth run all night though. 

“You know it’s like midnight, right? It would be great if you’d go to sleep” Spencer groaned. 

Brendon grinned, “I LIVE to annoy you, Spencer Smith. It’s a Urie specialty, annoy the shit out of any human who comes into our life for the sake of entertainment.” 

Spencer spit in response to get the sand out of his dry mouth as Brendon fell into silence. 

After a few minutes Brendon began to look around, tilting his head and blinking. He then turned his head to face where he assumed the guard that was watching him was. 

“ _Ma’_ ” he muttered. Water. 

In the silence Spencer had almost thought about getting a few hours of sleep but he wanted to see what would happen. Despite all of Brendon’s ‘Rangers are the best’ bullshit Spencer was honestly surprised it took him this long to ask for water. They were taken some time in the morning and now it had to have been at least midnight, which means they’d been without water for at least 10 hours, spending most of that in the blazing heat of the desert. 

The guard ignored him and Brendon called out again, louder this time, “ _Min fadlik, Ma’_ “ Water, please. This time one of the guards walked over, a bottle filled with river water in his hand and placed it just outside Brendon’s reach (not that he’d be able to get it anyway) and said as much to Brendon. 

“Now that is a dick move if I’ve ever seen one.” Brendon groaned. Before the man walked away Brendon muttered one of the many offensive Arabic terms he knew and got a kick to his stomach for it. 

“If we get saved that guy better be the first one they take out.” 

Spencer agreed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have done another cliffhanger? I may be a little bit sorry? But not sorry enough to change it. 
> 
> Happy reading!

The guards had woken the group up as the sun was just peaking over the horizon, rather pleasantly all things considered; only a few kicks and hits were traded off. 

As the sun was just beginning to trade from ‘hot’ to ‘blazing’ a woman showed up at the front of the camp. She had a scarf covering her head and she was wearing cargo pants and a long-sleeve t-shirt, she definitely wasn’t one of the locals. She didn’t spare a second glance at Brendon on his post or the other soldiers under the tree as the man who had held Brendon at gunpoint (Spencer had named him Asshole With the Gun #1) escorted her through the camp and into one of the tents. 

The woman came out of the tent a while later, Asshole With the Gun #1 following behind her about 3 feet away. She walked past Spencer and the others, kicking Ryan’s feet out of the way of her path. As soon as she was past Ryan moved his feet back to where they were and glared at the guard for him to tell him to do anything otherwise. She sauntered over towards the post Brendon was on and squatted down. Brendon took in a sharp breath when she pulled his shirt down, looking at his tattoo in the center of his back. After running her fingers along the lines she stood up and brushed herself off. 

“You should’ve stayed on the base, soldier.” The woman said, standing over Brendon.

Brendon looked straight ahead and blinked, “American. You’re American.” 

“And you’re blind.” 

Brendon shrugged, “Y’got me there.” 

The woman walked around the pole Brendon was tied to and circled around it a few times before stopping, “You soldiers make my life infinitely harder when you’re Special Forces, you know that, right?” 

The soldiers were watching this exchange and Spencer watched Brendon began tapping his fingers together again but his face gave nothing away.

“It’s just me. The others are regular everyday soldiers. I’m a fucking Ranger, by the way, not some special forces yuppie.” 

She nodded, “I’m Meredith. I’m the person who’s gonna try and get you back home but I’m not going to make any promises to you. You got that?” 

She turned and looked towards Spencer and the other soldiers and they all nodded. She looked down at the bottle of dirty water just outside Brendon’s reach and stooped down in front of him with the top unscrewed. “Open your mouth.” 

Brendon, the asshole that he was, stared at her defiantly and she sighed, “Do you want the water or not? It’s going to get over 90F by mid-morning.” 

Brendon opened his mouth the moment water was mentioned and she held the bottle for him until he was about halfway through it. She pulled it away and poured some of it over his head and onto his shoulders. Brendon sighed and let his head hang, the water dripped onto his pants. 

“Shukran,” Thanks. 

“Don’t get too comfortable.” 

\--

Meredith disappeared back into the tent she had been in before and the three soldiers under the tree were given water and a loaf of bread to share when the sun was high enough in the sky to be scorching through the shade they had. Their hands were unbound so they could eat but there was no reason to try anything given that three trigger-happy guards were standing just two feet away. Brendon had fallen asleep, or passed out, his head hung low between his shoulder blades leaving his back exposed to the sun. 

“Did you know him before this deployment for proper exit?” Ryan asked, looking down at his piece of bread. 

Spencer nodded, “I’m a second grade teacher back home. His little brother is one of my students, that’s how we met. Did you guys know each other?” 

Ryan shook his head, “No, Jon is from Chicago, got deployed for a different year than I did too. He’s chill though.” 

Jon smiled from his spot next to Ryan, bumping their shoulders together before speaking, “We’re all gonna have to go out and get drinks after this, too bad you can’t put your bar tab on the expense report for the military.” 

Spencer let out a breathy laugh, “Considering we got kidnapped for the military I think we can. I know I will.” 

\-- 

An hour or so after they were given food Meredith came out of the tent and walked over to the three soldiers. 

“Turns out there are people who care about you after all, at least a little bit anyway. While the military isn’t about to pay for your safe return someone here has a family who is.” Her eyes floated over to Jon. 

Everyone went through some sort of hostage resistance training, everyone who meant anything anyway. Spencer knew the military wouldn’t pay for their release, but individuals might. Spencer shifted to look at Jon and Ryan was doing the same. 

Jon glared at Meredith, “My family will pay, that’s not a problem.” 

“Good, then this should be over soon and you’ll all get to go home to daytime talk shows and parades.” 

At the sound of Meredith’s voice Brendon was roused out of his unconscious state and he lifted his head, tilting it to the side to try and hear what she was saying. “Water please. I know you have it.” He mumbled and Meredith looked towards the guards, who shrugged. 

“And why would I give it to you if I had it?” 

Brendon looked at the air somewhere above her head and smiled, “Because you’re not a shitty person like these bastards pretend to be.” 

Meredith sighed, Brendon wasn’t wrong. There was a water bottle in her hand, half full and actually clean. She grabbed Spencer’s jacket from behind him and walked towards Brendon. The guard nearest him tried to stop her when she put the jacket around his shoulders but she glared at him and hissed something Spencer was pretty sure he would always associate with pure fear for the rest of his life. Brendon groaned when the fabric touched his shoulders and he would probably feel hotter with that on now but at least it would keep his sunburns from getting worse. She unscrewed the bottle and Brendon opened his mouth. Spencer could tell he was trying to drink it slowly but he was finished with the rest of the bottle in less than 30 seconds. 

“You better be right about your family, soldier,” Meredith called once Brendon finished the water. Jon didn’t answer verbally and just nodded stiffly when she looked back at him. 

\-- 

Meredith didn’t come back the next morning. 

A few hours after the sunrise some of the guards walked over to the post Brendon was tied to. They cut his zip ties, untied him from the post and then took a new pair of zip ties and tightened his hands together in front of him. One of them took the rope they had been using to tie him to the post and tied it around his neck, leaving the end in the hands of one of the original men from the plaza. 

“What are you doing?” Spencer mumbled and then his body caught up to this brain and he began to buck against his restraints, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING??” 

The guard that had been watching him grabbed his shoulder with one hand and pulled his gun out with the other, pressing it against Spencer’s temple. 

Jon and Ryan were also soon in the same predicament and Spencer groaned, “Just tell me what you’re doing! Don’t kill him, Jon’s family already said they would pay!” 

Brendon hadn’t done much in response to the guards manhandling him up and redoing all of his binds but once Spencer started yelling he turned his head to the sound. 

“Spence, man. It’s gonna be okay,” he called. 

“Fuck you, you don’t know that!” Spencer screamed back. 

Brendon sighed, “I promise. It’ll be okay. Just trust me, alright?” 

Spencer and Brendon didn’t get a chance to talk more before the men were pushing Brendon forward and leading him out of the campsite and into the desert.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I just started working at a new job so hopefully I can still keep up my pace. Here's the next chapter, happy reading! I love kudos and comments if you love them! 
> 
> ** Also, this chapter is 3rd person limited to Brendon which means he knows Arabic VERY well, unlike Spencer. Anytime they're speaking in Arabic it will be translated to english and in italics so you know what language the conversation is in. **

If the sun wasn’t so astoundingly, horrendously, drastically hot maybe Brendon would’ve tried to fight harder against the men who were manhandling him out of the camp, but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care that much. Brendon didn’t really want to die but he’d rather die than be carted around like some ‘look what we caught’ toy, Brendon saw the pictures and he’s read the reports. It’s better to die in captivity than live in it. 

Brendon only spoke up because it seemed like Spencer was really loosing his shit over this. 

“Spence, man. It’s gonna be okay,” Brendon felt his voice cracking from the sand and disuse. 

“Fuck you, you don’t know that!” 

Spencer had obviously never been kidnapped before. The only reason Brendon was still alive (up until this point, anyway) was because they needed him, they needed all four of them and they weren’t about to lose their investment. 

Brendon knew that he was being taken out either as a scare tactic or the men in charge wanted to make a side deal, Brendon knew that rangers were worth more on the market than a regular deal. They could probably make more money selling Brendon to some sick fuck than the other three combined. 

But still. Brendon was an optimist. 

“I promise. It’ll be okay. Just trust me, alright?”

The man holding Brendon’s rope pushed him and Brendon started to walk in the direction he was pointed in. 

“ _You will walk 3 kilometers out and 3 kilometers back. If you survive we might let you sit in the shade with your friends._ ” The man muttered, tightening the rope in his grip. 

So this was a scare tactic. Hopefully. 

The sand was scorching hot. There were rocks and a few bricks from an old road biting up in Brendon’s feet and he held back a groan. “ _Do I get to know why?_ ” Brendon kept walking, noting the growing silence as they left the camp his steps halfway between hesitant and ‘holy shit I’m walking on hot coals’ and the man laughed, 

“ _Because it’s fun for us._ ” 

\--

Brendon had been blind for two years, he had time to get used to it, he knew how to predict the changes in the ground and usually didn’t stumble but not being able to use a cane or even stick his hands out in a useful manner to search for obstacles was really putting him on edge. He remembered the first time he tried to walk without a cane at rehab, just to see if he remembered where he was. 

Brendon also remembered how that ended up with him in the corner of the women’s bathroom wielding a pipe he’d wedged loose out of the sink, but seriously he’d gotten better. He could go through his house, the coffee shop and play soccer without his cane. 

Here though. With the only control coming from a rope around his neck and his hands bound he wasn’t so sure about his abilities anymore. Obviously they’d stop him, or kill him, if they were done but the fear was growing. Brendon began to tap his fingers in front of him and tried to think of that one song that Michael enjoyed so much when he was a baby and he would skype with the family. 

Michael was a weird kid. Brendon hoped he’d get to see him again. 

After a while Brendon almost forgot that he was essentially walking on hot coals. He had no sense of time but for what it was worth the sun was growing hotter and Brendon was near the point of begging to know when they were going to turn around and start the trek back. The men held conversations with each other in a local dialect and Brendon pretended he was sticking his head in the freezer box back home while Michael tried to claw his way to the ice cream hidden in the back.

As they kept walking with no end in sight Brendon tried to remember the song he sang for his solo at his juries in the spring. He always tried to sing something pop-influenced so he could annoy the opera professor that always sat in on the juries for the vocal performance majors. He could remember the lyrics but not the tune of the song and he ended up bobbing his head slightly to the tune of ‘under the sea’ which made this walk even more intolerable, but Brendon couldn’t get the song out of his head. 

Some time after he switched from ‘Under the Sea’ to ‘Part of that World’ the man holding the rope around his neck changed directions, causing Brendon to stumble and tug on the rope, the current direction was fine, thank you very much. Brendon was about to make his opinions known to the man when the same one shoved Brendon into the sand.

“ _Get back up, turn around._ ” 

Oh. yeah. So he wasn’t going to be killed out here in the desert. That’s good to know.

Brendon dug his fingers into the sand for a moment, the rope digging into his wrists, and nodded. He slowly got up to his knees and put his weight back on his feet. He made it about ten steps before he stumbled on his own feet. Brendon took a few and righted himself before his knees hit the ground again. One of the men pulled him backwards by his hair and Brendon groaned, “ _Please… please stop._ ” 

The man laughed, pulling tighter on Brendon’s hair and he mocked Brendon’s moan and plea. Brendon wanted to spit on the man and for a moment he wished he were still legally allowed to have his weapon on him. Once the mocker was satisfied he threw Brendon forward and pushed him to keep walking. 

\--

“ _Where did you learn Arabic, Scum?_ ” Brendon didn’t realize he was being spoken to until the bandit holding the rope around his neck jerked it back. Brendon wished they would fucking stop with the rope pulling, he was walking what more did they want? Brendon coughed in response. 

Somewhere between them capturing the four soldiers and today the men must’ve forgotten that Brendon had more than a basic knowledge of Arabic. Or maybe these were different guys because he’d gotten more than his fair share of kicks for responding to almost anything they said in the proper language.

“ _In school. I had a lot of friends from Jordan, they taught me curse words at first,_ ” Brendon smiled at the memories and tried to clear his dry throat, “ _One of my friend’s mothers taught me a lot and I took classes when I was older._ ” 

One of the men scoffed, “ _You used your knowledge of this language to help destroy their people. God will punish you for the work you’ve done._ ” 

How many times had Brendon heard that line? 

The amount of times he was interrogated by the one he was interpreting about his knowledge of Arabic could be enough to make him rich if he charged outside for his services. 

Brendon shook his head, “ _I used my knowledge of this language to help them. So my friends could be free,_ ” Brendon gasped as he was shoved into the sand. His hands didn’t do much to catch him so his face became well acquainted with the ground that should’ve been beneath his feet. He pulled himself up slowly, getting back to his feet and started walking again. 

Brendon shrugged, “ _Believe what you want, I know I’m doing the right thing._ ”

After that conversation the walk back became a little bit more combative in the sense that before that the men had generally left Brendon alone but now they were making fun of him, repeating what he had said in various tones laughing and kicking up the sand to make it harder for Brendon to breathe. Now Brendon knew for sure that they were carrying guns because they were occasionally aiming them into the sand to shock Brendon, which worked if that’s what they were aiming for. 

Slowly the sounds of the village started to appear around them, luckily the sun was going down as well but Brendon’s shoulders and back (he should’ve worn more than his tank top today until his jacket) were still on fire and Brendon didn’t even want to think about the bloody trails his feet were leaving behind. 

As long as they let him sit in the shade and maybe get a bit of water, he could probably recover. Recover enough to maybe help if the time came to escape, or if they were picked up by the military. 

Even then, just sitting would be nice. Lowered expectations were always the way Brendon got what he wanted.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna wait another day or two to post this chapter but I've currently found myself waiting for something to happen at work so I figured now was the perfect time. I'm glad to see people enjoying this story!

Brendon was only standing by the grace of whatever god was paying attention to them today. He and the guards had been gone through the rest of the morning and the sun had steadily been falling down towards the west. As they got closer to Spencer and the other soldiers they could see the skin of Brendon’s shoulders and neck bursting with red and inflamed blisters from the sun. His feet were swollen and red from walking, Spencer imagined if the ground was more solid he’d be seeing red footprints on the ground. 

Brendon’s eyes were closed against the setting sun facing him. Whenever he took a step he favored his right side and he was taking deliberate yet shallow breathes. 

The guards untied the rope from around his neck and pulled him over to the tree, letting him crumple next to Spencer’s side. They redid the rope on his hands so it could be tied behind the tree and knotted his rope through Spencer’s. Brendon groaned as he slid to the ground and pulled his legs into himself, trying to get the weight off his feet. 

The last guard to leave him, after checking his ropes, put his ear next to Brendon’s and whispered something, his face portraying dramatic desperation and fear before he pushed Brendon’s head into the tree. If Spencer weren’t so afraid of what more they would do to Brendon he would’ve stuck his foot out to trip him. 

“Spencer, check his pulse for me?” Spencer turned to Jon and blinked in response. Jon sighed. “Check his pulse, his breathing is too shallow. I’m a doctor back in the states. I’d do it myself but I can’t reach him.” 

Spencer nodded and twisted in the ropes, trying to get a good look at Brendon. Spencer couldn’t see his hands tied behind himself but he knew he’d gotten Brendon’s wrist based on the heat radiating off of him. 

“It’s really fast and it’s kind of doing that fluttering thing.” 

Jon nodded, “Is he bleeding?” 

Spencer had gotten a pretty good look at Brendon when he walked in, “Not that I saw. His feet look terrible though, Jon” 

“Your mom looks terrible,” Brendon mumbled, his eyes still shut. 

Spencer had enough give in his ropes that he could bump his shoulder up against Brendon in response and Jon coughed out a laugh in surprise, “How’re you feeling, man?” 

Brendon didn’t shrug his shoulders, instead of moved his head side to side in a so-so gesture, “Could be better but could be a lot worse. My feet are fucking killing me though.” 

“Okay, I can’t really do anything right now but the next time they give us water I’ll try and see if they’ll let me up to look at them, okay? Just hang in there.” 

Brendon leaned his head back against the tree, “Sure, whatever floats your boat, man. I’m gonna pass out now.”

\--

Not much longer did Brendon pass out against the tree did a car come screeching up through the desert and slam to a stop in front of the campsite. Meredith stepped out of the passenger side door and slammed it shut behind her. 

Asshole With the Gun #1, the ever-loving gentleman that he was, shouted from across the camp something about how Meredith ‘didn’t need to be here anymore’ and she responded back with something scathing that Spencer couldn’t understand. She leveled her eyes on the soldiers and settled on Brendon long enough to take in the state he was now in, which was not how she had left him. 

She pointed her finger at Asshole With the Gun #1 and pointed again at the tent they had met in before. As he sauntered into the tent she looked again at the soldiers and sighed, “He’s alive, right?” 

Spencer, Jon and Ryan all nodded and she nodded in return. 

“Let’s keep it that way.” 

\--

While none of the soldiers could see the conversation happening they could hear almost constant yelling by Meredith and a few low-pitched voices responding. This went on for a while after the sun went down, long enough that a fire was lit again and the desert winds started to pick up. 

Everyone in the camp was silent, either trying to decipher the yelling from the tent or trying to sleep despite it. Brendon shifted in his binds and started muttering. Spencer strained his ears to hear the whispers but he couldn’t understand him, “Brendon, what is it?” he reached his hand around to grab Brendon’s wrist, to check his pulse again and his wrist felt hotter than it did when the sun was still beaming down through the leaves on them. 

Brendon continued muttering but now Spencer could realize he wasn’t speaking English or Arabic, which was why Spencer couldn’t even hazard a guess at what Brendon was saying. As he went on Jon and Ryan turned their heads to look at Brendon and Spencer groaned, “Great, now he’s officially gone crazy. Can’t wait to get home and tell his mom and brother that Brendon’s officially lost his marbles.” 

“It’s a prayer.” Ryan said, his eyes on Brendon. Spencer blinked and started to question what he meant and Ryan tried again, “It’s a Catholic prayer. I think for Saint Michael, for protection.” 

Spencer side-eyed Brendon, “He’s not Catholic.” 

Ryan shrugged, “Maybe he converted while in the desert, had a near death meeting with God, stranger things have happened.” 

Brendon stopped the prayer just as a shout from Meredith reached its crescendo. He winced at what was said and then started his prayer again.   
\--

Meredith came out from the tent, finally, and walked towards the guards, telling them to untie the soldiers and help move them to the truck Meredith had drove up in. 

“Meredith, no. You can’t let them move us, hostages don’t survive moves!” Spencer hissed, pulling away from the guard who was trying to move him into the back of a truck.

“Soldier, keep moving. I told you not to get comfortable.” 

Meredith didn’t even look at Spencer as she stood next to the truck watching the men manhandle the group of soldiers in. Brendon was awake now, more so than he had been in a few hours but he wasn’t doing much to help the men who were moving him into the back of the truck. He was letting his feet drag and now Spencer could see small puddles of blood appearing where his feet were moments before. 

Meredith gave hard looks to the soldiers once they were in the truck, “If you escape right now I’ll kill you myself. I’m doing this for your own good, alright?” Spencer was pretty much done and done with Meredith but Ryan answered for him,

“Just get us home.” 

Meredith sighed, “I’m not into making promises I might not keep.” 

She slammed the back of the truck shut. 

Brendon kept moving around, trying to find a way to place all his limbs to keep his feet from touching the ground and he reached a now untied hand out in a search. 

“Spencer, Spencer she’s not kidding, don’t escape.” 

Spencer scoffed, “I think the sun fried your remaining brain cells.” 

“No. Man, I’m serious,” Brendon used his right hand to shift his shoulders off the hardest part of the floor, “She’s taking us somewhere safe, she doesn’t trust those guys anymore.” Brendon finally found a mostly comfortable position and leaned his head against the now moving wall of the truck. His breathing was fast, almost like he was hyperventilating. 

“Don’t escape, promise me.” 

Spencer didn’t answer him. 

Brendon passed out.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know, I'm not super HAPPY with out this chapter turned out but it's not BAD. Also this chapter is in Brendon's POV. Here you go, have fun!

Brendon slowly realized he was awake when he heard someone whispering on the other side of the room in Arabic. There were two voices actually, a man and a woman, Brendon couldn’t pick out what they were saying but he hoped Meredith wasn’t lying when she said she was going to give Brendon and the other soldiers to a sympathetic group as a way to punish the group that originally took them hostage on the plaza. 

From what Brendon could hear in between bouts of unconsciousness is that a military drone had spotted Brendon and the men who took him out into the desert. They followed them back to the campsite and were planning a raid to retrieve the soldiers. Brendon couldn’t really figure out why Meredith was so pissed or why she was so invested in the soldiers being negotiated for instead of saved… but money made people do crazy things. She was pissed enough to give Brendon and the others to another group that would pay her more and hopefully attempt to hide them better than the ‘imbeciles, raging fucking imbeciles’ from the campsite. 

Soon the man was gone and there were quiet footsteps coming near Brendon, the woman was still here then. She stopped near Brendon and set a few things down on the dirt next to him. The men who had dragged him into the room had laid Brendon on his stomach; a small mercy and Brendon had almost no drive, or breath, to respond to her when she asked,

“ _Do you speak Arabic?_ ” 

Luckily Spencer was sitting near Brendon, leaned up against the wall probably, and he answered in his stilted knowledge, “ _Not much, he’s a lot better than any of us._ ” Brendon could picture Spencer gesturing uselessly to Brendon. 

The woman covered Brendon’s hand with her own, her skin cool and soft. Brendon wanted to lift his head but he was just so tired from everything. She took her hand away and began to make some noise with the things she had brought, “ _What did you do to make the men before so angry, angry enough to hurt you like this?_ ” 

Brendon then wondered how he looked to everyone else. He knew his feet were probably unrecognizable, the felt unrecognizable anyway. His shoulders burned and felt heavy on his torso and his head was pounding from the dehydration and the constant sun beaming down on it. 

Brendon thought how he should answer until she ran a strip of cloth over Brendon’s turned forehead, it was soaked in water and it dripped down the side of Brendon’s head onto the floor, Brendon held back his moan of pleasure at the sensation and he sighed instead, waiting a few moments before answering on his own behalf, “ _I’m one of the soldiers responsible for the death of a lot of guys they probably liked._ ” 

She didn’t respond except to lay the cloth flat on his forehead and gentle press it into his skin. Brendon figured it wouldn’t hurt to let the others know that he was doing okay, they didn’t need to be worried, “Hey, we’re safe?” Brendon asked while attempting to take in a deeper breath than the ones he had been getting while lying on his stomach. 

Jon answered, from another corner of the room, “Yeah. Meredith told us what she told the men, we’re safe for now. Also she said you’re worth too much to kill so we’ve got that in our favor.” 

Brendon nodded into the dirt and then addressed the woman who was currently Brendon’s favorite person on the planet.

“ _Who are you? Do you have more water?_ ”

“ _My name is Leyla, and yes I have more water. What is your name?_ ” 

Brendon tried to turn his head “ _My name is Brendon. Is my friend okay? I can’t see so he lies to me a lot to make me feel better._ ” Leyla let out a short laugh and laid another strip of wet cloth on Brendon’s forehead. 

“ _He looks fine to me, he’s worried about you._ ” 

Brendon smiled. They all sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments but Brendon started to wonder if he’d be more comfortable lying on his back. Of course the burns would hurt, those were going to hurt for a while but if Brendon laid on his back he could probably breath better and that would be a good step in a direction Brendon wanted to go.  
Brendon slid his hands up, palms on the ground and started to push himself up to roll over. There wasn’t much strength in his arms but he sure as hell wasn’t just going to fall back over again. He made it onto his side before Leyla tried to stop him.

“ _No, don’t do that, your back is badly burned,_ ” Yeah, no shit. 

Brendon could hear movement across the room, like someone scuffling across the dirt and he kept trying, 

“Brendon, stop, man. You’re making it all worse.” Jon. 

Brendon groaned and tried to push himself up again, “I want to lay on my back,” he hissed at Jon, then turned his head to where he thought Leyla was, " _Help me please, Leyla. I want to lay on my back._ ” 

There was a brief moment where no one touched him but there was still movement and Brendon could bet the other three soldiers were having a silent conversation about what was going on. Jon put his hand on Brendon’s shoulders, lightly grazing his burned skin, “Okay, okay. Let me lay my shirt down first so you don’t get dirt in your burns. Okay? Hold on.” 

Jon laid his shirt down and helped Leyla rotate Brendon over so he was lying in the frame of the shirt. 

Brendon shouted in pain for probably a good 30 seconds before he settled, letting his shoulders and back ease onto the ground without too much more pain. Once he was as comfortable as he could be Leyla gentled picked his head up and helped him take a few sips of water. 

After a while she left, leaving the water and scraps of cloth next to Brendon, she held Brendon’s hand and whispered a prayer before getting up. Brendon couldn’t feel anyone else near him after that except Spencer who had his foot pressed up against Brendon’s shin. 

“You think if Brendon dies I can get his dorky little brother out of my class?” Spencer huffed some time later. Ryan and Jon scoffed from the other side of the room. 

“I heard that” Brendon rasped.

“I wanted you to” Spencer poked Brendon’s leg with his toes and shifted his weight, “You better be ready to do everything for me when we get home. I’ve unofficially signed you up to chaperone my next 18 field trips… at least.” 

Brendon grimaced and didn’t answer for a minute. “Are you pissed at me? For getting us kidnapped and all…” 

Spencer sighed and Brendon could bet he even shrugged, “It’s not your fault, could’ve happened to anyone. Although this particular shitshow is of epic proportions… maybe I’m a little mad, about the kidnapping, not about the being here… that ones on me.” 

Brendon would totally blame Spencer for ‘the being here’ no one could argue that it wasn’t Spencer that pushed the whole Operation Proper Exit idea until Brendon gave in to make his friend happy. 

“Hey,” Brendon reached his arm up in a ‘whatever’ gesture, “It’s your fault we’re stuck in this desert, yeah but… I don’t regret coming here, alright?” Spencer would probably keep punishing himself about this for a while but they’d talked so often about regret that Brendon knew his words would have meaning. 

Jon scoffed and stumbled over towards Brendon again, grabbing one of the strips of cloth that was still clean laying next to the bottle of water everyone was very clearly not looking at. He dunked it in the water and laid it on Brendon’s forehead, “I’m pissed. I was supposed to be back in Chicago by now, harassing med students and dealing with inner city trauma.” 

“Well, at least you get to practice on me for a while.”

Jon was about to snap back with some witty remark when the building shook on its foundation and the door flew open.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took longer than usual, work has been pretty hectic and I started working on some other stories. 
> 
> But here you go! New chapter! I hope it's good!

A second explosion rocked the building, dropping dust and pieces of cement on the men as two tactical soldiers examined the room, checking for any of the guards that might be left. Spencer could just barely see the heads of two more soldiers right on their heels. 

The soldiers called out a booming, “Clear!” when they deemed the room acceptably safe and they didn’t even get to finish speaking before they were being pushed aside by a soldier in fatigues instead of the black gear the ones in the front had. 

“Urie! Urie!” the soldier ran across the room and skidded to a stop, dropping down on his knees in front of Brendon, as the medic followed quickly behind, scanning his eyes over Jon and Ryan against the closest wall and then Spencer, on the wall near Brendon. Obviously Brendon was the most critical, although he was still conscious, his head tilted towards the man who was now running his hands over Brendon’s arms and legs in a panic. 

“Saporta?” Brendon lifted his hand up to search for the soldier and the soldier, Saporta, grabbed Brendon’s hand and clasped both of his around it and nodded, “Yeah man, when we heard that you were one of the idiots that got himself kidnapped a couple of the guys and I asked to be on the rescue mission.” 

The medic pushed Saporta out of the way and started to take an inventory of Brendon’s injuries. Spencer could tell he was about to ask if Brendon could walk but his eyes reached his feet and he swallowed his words. 

Brendon’s feet looked horrendous, if Spencer had any food in his stomach it’d be coming out whenever he looked at them. The tops of his feet were red from the sun but the undersides of his feet were red from the hot sand he walked on. There were a few large cuts Spencer assumed were from rocks on both feet and the balls of his feet and his ankles were almost black with the blood trying to come out of the blisters. 

“I can carry him,” Saporta offered after a few moments of tense silence from the medic. Saporta wasn’t very big when it came to muscles but he only let out a grunt when he picked up Brendon in a fireman’s carry and left the room, following behind the tactical team and not waiting for anyone else still in the room.

\--

There was no room in the Humvee for Brendon to lie down. He leaned heavily on Spencer as the medic began to set an IV in the crock of his left elbow. Brendon’s skin felt like it was burning a hole in Spencer’s shirt but he wasn’t sweating at all, hadn’t been since before the men had moved them to the new house. Now that they had been in a cooler space, and even now in the Humvee Spencer could feel the extent of the heat Brendon was giving off. 

The medic finished quickly, barely eliciting a wince from Brendon, connecting the port in his arm to a bag of saline being held up by one of the soldiers who kept looking at Brendon nervously. 

The medic moved quickly to Spencer, working with efficiency to set an IV of saline in his arm as well while a second soldier, not a medic but at least trained enough to do simple things, placed IVs for Ryan and Jon (with occasional instruction from Jon). 

“Spence? Where?” Brendon mumbled into Spencer’s shoulder after a particularly noticeable pothole in the dirt road they were flying down. 

“Going back to the base and then hopefully home soon,” Spencer responded trying not to poke or itch at the site of the IV on his arm. 

“We’re taking all of you to Walter Reed once we’ve stabilized everyone here at the base hospital,” the medic helpfully added, “Might want to try and call your families when we reach the base,” as he was talking he had decided to give Brendon a second IV, placing it in his unoccupied elbow. 

Jon opened his eyes from where he was resting against the moving wall of the humvee, his IV bag of saline laying on his shoulder. “I work at Mercy General in Chicago, Brendon needs a class 1 ICU probably a burn unit, Reed is only a class 2 and their unit sucks, take him to Mercy.” 

The medic shrugged, putting the second bag of saline on Brendon’s shoulder. “That’s above my pay grade, you’ll have to take it up with the general at the base.” 

Jon didn’t continue the discussion, just let the Humvee fall into the deafening silence as it tore through the desert.

\--

“How long was he exposed to the heat?” The doctor asked as they brought Brendon over to a clear gurney. 

“We were there for 4 or 5 days I think. It was only the last day that we weren’t out in the heat.” Jon responded, following a solider over to another gurney. Spencer and Ryan moved slowly to the beds nearby, the effects of the past few days finally hitting them. 

Spencer would kill for a cheeseburger and a beer right now, honestly. 

“His temp is 106.7, how is his brain not fried?” The nurse continued to check Brendon’s vitals as Brendon mumbled and went quiet. “I’m sorry, what was that, solider?” 

Brendon’s eyes stayed closed but he tried again, “Rangers are robots, didn’t you know?” 

The nurse laughed, “Well, even robots get overheated. You’re safe now, solider.” 

The doctor and nurses kept working, their concern obvious but just as any other soldiers they were calm and collected while they worked. 

“His temperature isn’t going down at all,” the doctor mumbled, “there should at least be a slight change now that he’s gotten some fluids, what the hell is wrong?” 

Brendon was out cold… or well… out hot, now and it almost looked like he was doing worse than he was at the camp now that he was under the lights and scrutiny of the hospital ward. 

“If we don’t get his temperature down now we’re gonna be shipping a brain dead soldier home so any ideas would be appreciated,” the doctor snapped. 

\--  
“What’s his temp?” Gabe Saporta was standing on the other side of Brendon’s gurney, a white tank top and his fatigue pants now clean instead of covered in the dust like they were earlier during the mission. Jon rubbed his forehead, ignoring the pull of the IV in his hand, and put Brendon’s chart down on the edge of the bed. 

“Floating between 103 and 104. Other vitals are holding steady. The ice is helping a lot. That was a smart idea. Hopefully no one will mind warm vodka for a while.” 

Gabe laughed, once the doctors on base had realized the IVs weren’t working to get his temperature down from its dangerous level someone thought to get the ice out of all the freezers on the base. They packed it around his torso and wrapped a few chunks in towels and put them up around his head. 

Gabe wasn’t going to tell anyone that the contraband vodka was his. 

“Well, vodka isn’t allowed on base anyway so whoever’s been putting it in the freezer deserves to suffer, sucks to suck,” Gabe responded and sat down on the open gurney on his side of the bed. Ryan was slumped in a contraband lazy-boy chair near him watching the room with hooded and tired eyes. Spencer was on Jon’s side the bed, taking up the space on the gurney that was placed there, not because he needed it but because there was nowhere else to sit. Each one of them still had an IV and there were cups of ice-cold water on almost every available surface in the room.

“So you know Brendon?” Spencer asked, fiddling with the extra lengths of cloth on the bed. 

Saporta nodded, “We were in the same platoon from when we got shipped out to when he got sent home, he was one of our snipers, best shot I’d ever seen,” Saporta looked down at Brendon and sighed, “We were out on a mission when you guys showed up for Operation Exit. We knew he was coming so we were hoping we could come back from the mission in time to see him. When they said some guys were being held hostage we cut the mission short and came back. A few of us from the platoon strong-armed our way onto the rescue mission after they told us he was one of the ones who got taken.” 

Spencer was thinking quietly and then he pointed his finger at Gabe, “Wait… You’re Gabe Saporta… the Gabe Saporta that disabled an IED with no protective gear?” 

Gabe cackled, “So Brendon does talk about me! I thought he never talked about anyone except his little brother.” 

Spencer shook his head, “No, dude. He talks about you and the guys all the fucking time, it’s annoying. It’s good to finally meet the man behind the myth,” Spencer reached out his hand for a handshake and Gabe walked over to him to clasp their hands together. 

“It’s good to meet you too. We have to go back though; the mission was sort of left hanging without us. Tell Brendon to keep himself out of trouble for us. Someone will send him an email if we don’t end up dead or held hostage like him.”

Gabe left the room with a wave thrown behind his shoulder and Spencer leaned back on the bed and sighed as Jon put the chart back at the front of the bed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo here we are, this took a while! I've been working on that new story and work is getting a bit ridiculous since the holidays are getting closer. Hopefully those of you that enjoy this story are enjoying it and thanks for sticking around!

Jon Walker is one of the most persuasive humans on the planet and no one can tell Spencer otherwise. At the end of the second day on the base Jon, Ryan, Spencer and Brendon were all boarded on a medical transport plane that was intent on taking them to Walter Reed despite the fact that Jon had gotten approval from the hospital he worked at back home for Brendon to be treated there, along with the other three soldiers if they needed it. 

Jon didn’t even bother speaking into the communication headsets of the doctor on board or the other soldiers flying back with them, he just sat behind the pilot and co-pilot giving them the longest talk about both the military and the healthcare oaths about ‘doing no harm’. 

Somewhere over Europe the pilot rerouted his course and set them straight for Chicago. 

\--

“Brendon Urie, 26 years old held hostage for 5 days. Dehydration and extremely high fever due to heatstroke times 5 days. 2nd degree burns on shoulders and back, 3rd degree burns and deep cuts on feet that need debridement. He’s had on-base care in Iraq for two days, fever down to 100.6, GCS 11 occasionally 12. Vitals stable.” 

\--

“What is this?” Brendon mumbled. Spencer looked up from across the room and blinked at his friend. He was running his fingers over the newly attached ‘fall risk’ bracelet that one of the nurses had put on him about 30 minutes ago.

When they arrived at the hospital they took Brendon away immediately to try and keep his feet from getting infected, the army base hospital could only do so much in Iraq with less than stellar equipment. 

Almost as soon as he came out of the fog the anesthesia and despite still having a fever jumping between 100 and 102 and feet no more than staples, stitches and bandages, Brendon had managed to get out of his hospital bed and make it to the door of the hospital room before he overexerted himself and passed out in front of the door. 

While Spencer was incredibly impressed, the doctors and nurses were not. As a precaution the doctors put their softest restraints on his ankles and Spencer assumed the only reason they were still on Brendon was because he was hallucinating or passed out every few minutes and probably hadn’t noticed they were on him. 

“It’s to warn everyone else not to be near you when you walk so they don’t end up having to carry your sorry ass back to bed.” Spencer responded from where he was watching the tv on mute across the room. 

Brendon didn’t seem like he was listening to Spencer but after a few minutes he did mutter, “They should make braille bracelets.” 

Brendon fell silent again and continued fondling the bracelet. He tried to move his feet up but quickly caught onto the fact that either he was restrained or his feet were still terribly injured. Spencer wasn’t sure how cognizant Brendon was of his current situation despite the vague conversation they were having. 

Spencer watched Brendon sit up and try and undo the restraints on his ankles for about a full minutes before crossing the room and grabbing Brendon’s hands, “Dude, fucking stop. You can’t walk anyway, just suck it up.” 

Brendon’s protest to Spencer was fairly short lived. He tried to get up and reach the restraints maybe two more times before he passed out.

\--

Meredith showed up in Brendon’s hospital room maybe 30 minutes after Brendon and Spencer got into a minor argument about the taste of blueberries. She was wearing dark-washed jeans, a white t-shirt and didn’t have a head covering on anymore. 

If Spencer was unsure of her American background back at the campsite, he was sure now. 

“Glad to see you all got out alright,” she said, standing with her back to the door.

“Thanks for not letting us get killed?” Spencer responded, a questioning look on his face as he kept his line of sight on both Meredith and Brendon. 

Meredith sighed, “Those men who had you, in the beginning? They were going to kill you. I hadn’t worked with them before as a mediator and their original plan after I told them about the drone was to kill all four of you and forget the money. Just hand your dead bodies over for someone to desecrate. So, you’re welcome for not letting you get killed.” 

Spencer shrugged, “As long as we’re safe for good, I don’t care what you did.” 

“You do still have a fresh bounty on your head so I’d stay out of the Middle East for a long time, they don’t easily forget things. I heard the CIA had to remove 14 assets in the area because of you guys.” 

Spencer gave Meredith a surprised look and then glanced back at Brendon, “Despite his need for escaping this hellhole I doubt we’ll be back over there anytime soon.” 

Meredith nodded, “My ride won’t be here for a little while longer. You trust me to stay in the same room as you?” 

\--

Meredith didn’t plan on staying very long, just long enough to make sure all the soldiers were still alive and breathing and not more broken than they were before, but she ended up staying once she realized that Spencer had fallen asleep, his left side leaned into the faux-lazy boy chair in the corner of the room. Apparently Spencer did trust her enough and as far as Meredith knew Brendon had been down for the count all day but he was quietly starting to come around. 

Meredith had seen Brendon’s file and knew about the work he did before he was blinded, had heard about how he could take down a squad without them even realizing he was present, how he could spend 43 straight hours waiting for a target in the middle of the desert. 

Meredith had also seen Brendon in person, the easy-going, wise-ass idiot who got his best friend and two others kidnapped because he wanted to find the kids who were playing soccer outside of the compound. 

Meredith however had not ever seen a person; blind, solider, or otherwise; wake up as calmly and as quietly as Brendon did. The nurses said he had already tried to get out of the hospital once but passed out before he could get very far and this time Brendon looked like he was planning to as least make it past the door. 

Brendon slowly sat up, wincing at his still recovering skin as he moved his back off the bed. His eyes floated around the room as he tilted his head to hear if anyone was around although Meredith had stopped moving before Brendon was conscious she was sure of that. There was no blanket to hassle with; he had apparently made such a fuss that they took the blankets away from him, so Brendon easily found the restraints around his lower calves. 

Meredith let him get as far as getting the first leg lose before she spoke up, “You’re going to piss your friend off doing that.” 

Brendon paused and blinked, turning his head in the direction of Meredith’s voice.

He took in a shuddering breath and slowly leaned back in the bed, “Spencer said we were in America.” 

Meredith nodded to herself, “You are, and so am I.” Brendon lifted up his hand, the one holding both the pulse monitor and his IV taped to his palm, and almost went to run it through his hair before he must’ve remembered a scolding because he stopped and set his hand down. 

“I don’t… I don’t remember a lot of what happened past the first time we met but… why are you in America with us?” 

Meredith had taken it upon herself to read all of the medical notes from when Brendon was first brought into the hospital on the base in Iraq. His fever was dangerously high and he was having trouble remembering anything long term. Despite the fact that Brendon did a pretty good job of holding his own and staying conscious a lot longer than a normal person Meredith wasn’t surprised that at the time Brendon didn’t remember much from his time as a hostage. 

She also wasn’t surprised that Brendon was expecting danger with her near. While Brendon knew that she was there (mostly) for their safety Meredith had also given them a hard time and she could understand why he would think she wouldn’t care enough to check up on them. 

“I have an American passport, remember? Also, I got kind of attached to you four, wanted to make sure everyone was okay” 

Brendon shrugged, “Spencer is a little shittard, I do what I want.” 

Meredith snickered and went over to where Spencer was sleeping and shook his shoulders, “Wake up, your idiot ringleader is trying to break out again.” 

Brendon hissed an insult under his breath and held his hands up, “She’s lying Spencer, why would you trust her, she probably likes the wrong kind of blueberries!” 

Spencer peeled his face off the chair and glared at Brendon before turning his glare on Meredith. Meredith raised her hands in surrender and headed towards the door, “I just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be able to escape and get kidnapped again or something. If I’m lucky I’ll never have to see any of you ever again.” 

Spencer couldn’t deny that he agreed with her, even as he was considering finding restraints for Brendon’s arms too.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a Christmas Eve Miracle! Finally a chapter! Hope everyone is having good holidays, no matter what/if you celebrate!

Brendon was the master of sweet talk. While that may not have helped him when he was being held hostage, it definitely helped at the hospital. The next time Brendon woke up, after the visit from Meredith, the restraints were finally off his feet and there was something near Brendon’s hand that he was pretty sure was a controller for the bed. He then noticed someone was moving around in the room. 

“Spencer?” 

The person stopped moving and came closer to the bed, “He’s not here right now. I’m Cassie, your night nurse, is everything okay?” 

Brendon shrugged and immediately regretted it; his damn shoulders were really killing him. 

“Still in Chicago?” he grunted, moving around slowly to try and move the weight off his right shoulder, that one hurt a lot worse than the other one. 

“Still in Chicago. Been here about three days I think.” Cassie answered. 

Brendon nodded. Three days. That meant for sure his family had been contacted and told that he was in Chicago and definitely not dead. 

“Is my family here?” 

“You don’t remember? You dad stayed here last night. You two had a very intense discussion about whether or not blueberries should be included in fruit salads,” Cassie sounded like she was smiling behind that story and Brendon groaned. 

“And you guys just keep letting me talk when I’m very obviously incapacitated. I see, let the poor blind guy embarrass himself.”

Cassie snickered, “It’s almost 6am, I think your mom and brother are coming here later, would you like me to tell them that you don’t want to see them for sake of saving your pride?” 

Brendon glared and crossed his arms, “You’re evil.” 

\--

“Hey, buddy!” Brendon smiled as his little brother climbed up into the extra space on the hospital bed. Brendon lifted his hand up and Michael grabbed it, hooking his fingers through his older brother’s. 

“Remember sweetie, be gentle,” Brendon angled his head towards his mom’s voice and his smile got wider. 

“Mom.” 

A hand brushed through his hair and Michael bounced a little on the bed, “I made you a card while you were gone!” 

Paper rustled and soon there was a sheet of it in Brendon’s hand but it felt heavier, maybe it was cardstock, and it felt like there was more on it than just crayon or marker. Brendon ran his hands over the paper and felt the soft down of feathers glued to the paper, rough patches of small dots…glitter. 

Mom let Michael have glitter. 

Great.

“I made sure to use the colors that you like. I was gonna spell words on it but I made a picture instead. The feathers are clothes and the glitter is like… the faces and stuff.” 

“Who’s it a picture of?” Brendon asked.

“It’s our family and then Mr. Smith is there too because he’s almost family,” Brendon felt Michael put his hand on the sheet of paper, he was pointing to one of the figures made out of feathers and glitter, Brendon let his hand ghost over his brother’s. 

“This one is Dad, cause he’s the tallest. The next one is Momma because she’s got the best hair. Then you, and then me cause I’m the littiest and then Mr. Smith is over here in the corner cause sometimes he comes over and likes to stand in the corner in the kitchen so he doesn’t get in the way.” 

Brendon laughed and rubbed his knuckle into Michael’s hair, “I bet it looks great, dude. Have you seen Spencer?” 

Brendon felt Michael nod his head, “Yeah, he’s staying at the hotel with us. He went there to take a shower and go to sleep. He says it’s too hard to sleep here with you talking all the time.” 

“Well, he can go eat a sock, I’m great company, right?” 

Michael nodded again, “The best.” 

\--

Michael and their mom left about an hour later to go meet with the doctors and the people at the VA to see about moving Brendon back home. 

Spencer had finagled a La-Z-Boy and helped Brendon walk the two steps to it while keeping watch for the doctors who would definitely not approve of this small adventure. 

Spencer was flipping through the channels on the tv while on Brendon’s bed and Brendon was making guesses at to what show was playing with the five seconds of sound Spencer would give him. 

On the third attempt at Brendon guessing a telenovela someone opened the door. 

“Morning, Brendon, I’m Casey one of the nurses aides. I’m going to change your bandages, okay?” 

Brendon nodded, “Can I stay in the recliner?” 

Take first and ask questions later, the motto of Brendon, apparently. 

 

Spencer laughed from his spot on Brendon’s bed and slid off onto the floor, “I’m gonna go get some coffee, I’ll bring you something back,” Brendon smiled and looked towards the nurse’s voice for an answer, 

“Of course, I’m sure the chair is more comfortable anyway.” 

\--  
“What do you do when you’re not in here dealing with me?” Brendon asked as Casey clanged around the room getting the various things ready.

Casey laughed, “You say that like you’re difficult, which you aren’t. Besides the early escape attempts you’re the easiest patient I’ve ever had. All that is to say, I’ve got 10 other patients besides you. What do you do when I’m not in here dealing with you?” 

Brendon tightened his fist while Casey began unwrapping the bandages from his feet and after he took a few deep breathes. Once the surge of initial pain passed Brendon reached over to the bedside table, sliding his hands until he found the book his Mom had left, “Well, I don’t watch tv most of the time because it’s mad boring when you can’t see what’s happening so I’ve been reading this. Harry Potter was my favorite growing up, my mom found all the books in braille while I was gone,” Brendon ran his fingers over the top of the book and slid it back onto the table, squirming in the chair a little. 

“My feet really itch, is there something you or the doctors can give me?” he asked after finding the right spot on the table for the book and breathing deeply while Casey began spreading a cool lotion on his feet. 

“I’ll ask your doctor, I’m surprised it’s not something for the pain, I don’t think I’ve seen more than Advil on your chart since you’ve been here.” 

Brendon snickered, “I’m a Ranger, we don’t feel pain, we’re robots.” 

“That’s totally a lie. My parents had a Roomba and one time I kicked it down the hall and it was definitely in pain,” Casey retorted, beginning to rewrap Brendon’s feet. 

“Roombas are inferior robot beings that haven’t yet figured out the true way of robot living yet,” Brendon grinned at Casey and tossed his head back to laugh, “Your poor Roomba though! You know one day they’re all going to revolt and take over the earth and enslave humanity, right?” 

Casey howled in laughter, laughing so hard he couldn’t even continue wrapping Brendon’s feet. Casey sucked in a breath, “Well. Even if they do take over the earth I don’t think my Roomba will still be alive to exact its revenge.” 

Casey continued to snicker as he finished wrapping Brendon’s feet and then he stood up, moving the tray he was using back over to a different part of the room, “I think I can hear Spencer in the hallway, I’ll be sure to inform him not to trust any inferior robots around the hospital. See you later man.” 

Brendon reached his hand out for a handshake and nodded, “Sure. And no more kicking Roombas.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. At the end. But it's not really the end! 
> 
> As you can see I've made this a series! Which means there will be many other things in this universe. Whether it be a prequel or one shots within the story or a sequel or a variety of things. I'm not done here yet! 
> 
> I hope you've all enjoyed this and I'm glad for the readers who have hung around! Happy reading!

It took almost a week and a half to convince the hospital in Chicago that Brendon was well enough to fly, on a commercial airline no less, back home to Las Vegas and start rehab at the VA. 

Spencer, Ryan and Jon were all released from the hospital a day or two after getting to Chicago. Ryan was from New York so after a small ‘going away’ party in Brendon’s room with the others he flew back to be home with his parents. 

Spencer spent two days convincing his parents that they didn’t need to come up to Chicago, that he was just staying because Brendon was his friend, thank you, and he didn’t want to leave the poor guy in a strange city with just his family to talk to. Brendon’s parents were willing to dish out for a hotel room anyway and Spencer is never one to not take advantage of the kindness of others. 

The day before they were scheduled to fly back to Las Vegas Brendon’s mom brought a duffle bag already half filling with some of Brendon’s things from back home and left Spencer and Brendon to the work of searching for all the things they had accumulated over the past 12 days in the hospital. Get Well cards, books, shirts and sweatpants from the University of Chicago curtsey of Jon, a few shirts from the VA in Chicago and a few pairs of socks that Brendon was allowed to wear despite his still burned and cut feet. 

As Brendon’s fever went down and his dehydration lessened the hospital allowed him out of the bed and let him do more ‘strenuous’ activities such as letting someone else roll him down the hallways in a wheel chair although when they were in the room Spencer let him attempt wheelies while Michael sat on Brendon’s lap. 

Currently Brendon was sitting in the wheelchair, his duffle bag on the bed next to him, open and waiting while Spencer searching around the room to make sure they got everything. 

“How is rehab gonna work when I can’t even walk?” Brendon questioned as he tapped his fingers on the metal armrests of the wheelchair. 

Spencer scoffed at Brendon as he threw another pair of sweatpants onto Brendon’s lap for him to put in the duffle bag. Due to Spencer’s somewhat terrible aim they landed on Brendon’s head and Brendon yelped under the fabric. 

“You got arms, right?” Spencer tossed a t-shirt, this time landing right inside the duffle bag, just as Brendon got the sweatpants off his face to give Spencer a scowl, “Besides, they said you’re healing pretty well, should be able to walk with weight assistance next week. At least that’s what the therapist guy said… you were sleeping the last time he came by though.” 

Brendon shrugged and folding the pants on his lap and then felt around for a clear space in the bag to put them down in. Spencer tossed a few more things his way and then tapped his hand on the desk across the room, “What’re you wearing to the airport? We get on first since you’re in invalid anyway but do you want to wear your dress uniform or your combat fatigues? We’ve got both of them here.” 

Brendon thought for a second, “That dress uniform is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever wearing, fatigues for sure.” 

Spencer nodded, “Cool. I’m going to go get your parents and the dweeb from the play room and tell them we’re done so we can get dinner.” 

\--

They were almost late to the airport, thank you hospital physical therapist. The guy probably said the same things to Brendon five times before he let them check out of the hospital and then said those same things to Brendon’s mom and dad at least four more times on the way out the door. 

Don’t lift any of your bags or anyone else’s bags, the only time I want you to walk is when you’re moving from the chair to the seat in the plane, don’t eat any chips or candy (that was a personal preference of the therapist, not an actual rule). 

Luckily for them TSA gave them all a pass for the pre-check line and they got through security with a breeze. 

They had to check Brendon’s wheelchair on loan from the hospital and use a wheelchair from the airline but that didn’t slow them down as they headed to the gate for their (thank God) non-stop flight from Chicago to Las Vegas. 

“Bren! When mom and I flew before she let me get candy, can we get candy?” Michael was sitting in Brendon’s lap as Spencer wheeled them through the airport terminal, rendering the airline aid following them basically useless but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Brendon laughed, “Well. Mom is the one with the money, you’ll have to ask her.” 

Michael twisted in Brendon’s lap and looked up at his mom, “Mom, please!? You can get a Hershey bar and Brendon can have those fruit strips, mom please!!!” 

Brendon laughed as he could tell that his mom was relenting, “Alright, alright. You stay here at the gate with Brendon and the rest of us will go get candy, does that sound okay?” 

Brendon could feel Michael nodded as Spencer cut across the walkway and parked Brendon’s wheelchair next to what Brendon assumed was a row of seats at the gate for their flight. 

Brendon pulled out his phone to let Michael play whatever game he’d gotten Spencer to download on it the other day and started twisting Michael’s now shoulder length hair, “You like your hair this long, dude?” 

Michael shrugged his shoulders and continued tapping away at the game, “Kinda. Mom sometimes puts it up in a ponytail and that looks cool, it looks like some of the guys from the Disney movies that have long hair. Girls like long hair.” 

Brendon laughed, “That they do, dude.” 

Brendon heard someone sit down across from them in another row of seats at the gate and felt Michael look up from his game briefly to glance at the person and then back down to the phone in his hands. 

The person spoke after a few moments, “You know kiddo, your brother is a hero.”

It was a woman. Brendon had almost forgotten he was wearing his fatigues, giving away why he was really hurt. Brendon let Michael continue playing with his phone while he gave a smile to the woman and jabbed Michael in the side to prompt him to speak to the stranger. 

“I know,” Michael mumbled, “He used to fight bad guys. My teacher did too.” 

“My name is Emily, what’s your name?” 

Michael aimed to hide his face in Brendon’s hands, having dropped the phone in his lap, and Brendon laughed, “His name is Michael, I’m Brendon. We were traveling with some other people but they went on an adventure for the greatest candy in the airport.” 

“Well that’s a very important mission,” she said to Michael who had taken Brendon’s hands off his face, “What branch are you? I finished my last tour as a Marine last year.” 

“I was honorably discharged from the army two years ago, I was a Ranger, 3rd Battalion.” 

Brendon reached out his hand to shake Emily’s, “What’d you do to get hurt again?” 

Brendon wasn’t that great a judge of voices but it sounded like maybe she was flirting with him. Honestly, Brendon would flirt with himself if he could.

Brendon shrugged, “Long story, I can tell you on the plane?” 

Michael squawked, “But my seat is next to yours!” He screeched. 

Brendon pinched Michael’s side, “You can sit next to Spencer and Mom.”

“Who’s sitting next to me and your mom?” Spencer dropped a bag of candy into Michael’s lap to subdue his panic and sat down in the seat next to Brendon’s chair. 

“Michael is. This is Emily, she was a Marine. She’s on our flight and wants to know our harrowing story of a hero’s success.” 

Brendon could hear Emily laugh and Spencer tapped his fingers on the side of Brendon’s chair for a moment. Brendon trusted Spencer to make the right decision and take a hit for the team. 

As Spencer was thinking the desk attendant announced that they were going to start the boarding process. 

“Come on, Michael. I’ll play uno with you on the plane.” 

Michael slid off Brendon’s lap and Brendon noticed that Emily had taken the handles of Brendon’s wheelchair to move towards the walkway down to the plane.

“Alright, let me hear this story. See if I’m impressed.”

“Oh, you will be. So it all starts with a soccer game.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go [here](http://showme-thesun.tumblr.com) if you want to see my tumblr. I don't post a ton but it's funny sometimes? And if you sent me prompts I might write stuff for you? Possibly? :)


End file.
